The Path to Gratitude
by Red Hardy and CherylannRivers
Summary: A horrific accident right before Thanksgiving, that appears to have been caused by fatigue and a careless mistake, may cost the life of a loved one and threatens to tear the Hardy family apart. When the truth comes out, will they be able to forgive and find their way back to what really matters? Originally published as contest story on HDA, the completed story is 10 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

The Path to Gratitude

Chapter 1

Joe looked at his watch. His heart sank. " _I'm a dead man."_ He snuck a glance over his shoulder and saw it was still clear. " _Maybe I can finish this up and get outta here before I get caught."_ He poured the last of the black liquid from the plastic container and screwed the top back on. " _Done!"_ With a satisfied grin, Joe wiped his hands on the dirty rag and slammed the hood of the car. Spinning on his heel, Joe gasped. He'd been caught.

"I must be losing my touch. I didn't hear you come in."

Vanessa glared. "We talked about this, Joe."

Hands up, Joe tried to placate his girlfriend. "I know, Babe, I know."

"You promised."

He took a breath, thinking he could still salvage the situation, but began to cough. And cough. And cough. He heard Vanessa take a few steps and felt her hand patting his back.

"And this is one of the reasons why."

"I know," Joe squeaked out between bouts of coughing. He leaned on the car behind him and tried to catch his breath.

"You promised – no more working on cars for a while. You've been working non-stop for weeks now. You're lucky if you get home before nine and then you're out here in the garage working on cars for people." Vanessa stepped back, disappointed. "You're spreading yourself too thin, Joe. And now you're getting sick."

Joe sighed inwardly. She was right. They'd talked about it. Business at Hardy Investigations had suddenly exploded, requiring everyone to work overtime. Joe couldn't remember the last time he actually had a day off. Neither had anyone else. Frank, Fenton and Sam Radley, along with Joe, had been working seven days a week. And it wasn't going to let up anytime soon. He _had_ promised Vanessa he would stop working on cars until work slowed down.

Normally, Joe found working on cars to be very relaxing. It helped him unwind after a long day. He never turned down a friend or family member who asked for an oil change, a tune up, or new brakes. He enjoyed helping people out with routine maintenance and minor repairs. He also knew, in some cases, if he wasn't able to do it, it wouldn't get done. Joe never accepted money for his work and, with the cost of labor, some of the people he helped out wouldn't be able to maintain their cars if he didn't step in.

Joe glanced around the small but well kept garage with pride. The walls were filled with top of the line tools and equipment that he had acquired over the years. He could probably open his own auto mechanic shop if he wanted to. He also thought of the irony. The reason he and Vanessa were able to afford this house, located right on the beach, was because Joe performed routine maintenance on the cars of the elderly couple who rented it to them, as well as minor repairs on the house. In return, their landlords had slashed the monthly rent quite a bit.

Joe reached down and grabbed the rag resting on the hood of the car and wiped his hands, avoiding Vanessa's gaze. He wasn't sure how it happened. Most likely it was his inability to say no, but lately his mouth seemed to be have made a lot of promises that he was now wondering if he could keep. For weeks now, after getting home from work, he'd go straight to the garage where a car was waiting patiently for his magic touch. Sometimes he was out here until midnight, only to get up at the crack of dawn the next day for work. He had promised Vanessa he'd take a break and politely decline when someone asked for help with their car, at least until work slowed down to a more normal pace. It had turned out to be harder than he thought it would.

Vanessa leaned against the car next to him, her voice softer now. "I know how much you want to help your friends but you're working yourself to death." She nudged his shoulder and Joe turned to look at her. There was true concern and worry in her eyes. "You're working ten hours or more at the office. You come home and head straight out here to the garage. I can't remember the last time we had dinner together. I hardly ever see you anymore. But what really worries me is that cough. You've had it for two weeks now and it's not getting any better. You need to rest."

On cue, Joe turned his head and coughed again. "Sorry."

"See what I mean?"

"It's nothing, Babe, really."

Vanessa rolled her eyes and pushed off the car, walking towards the door that connected the garage to the house. Joe followed, turning off the light and locking the door.

"Have you taken anything for it today?" Vanessa stopped at the kitchen table and picked up her cell phone.

"Yeah, this morning." He didn't bother to mention it hadn't seemed to help much. "Who are you calling?"

"Your mom. You still need to shower and change. We're never going to make it on time."

Joe took the phone out of her hand and put it back on the table. He held both her hands in his and pulled her closer. "I'm the reason we're going to be late, I'll call her." He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers. "And no more working on cars. At least until after the holidays."

Vanessa leaned back and stared at him, hope warring with doubt. "Promise?"

Joe held up the first two fingers on his right hand, left hand over his heart. "From this day forward, I solemnly swear to say "no" to anyone who asks me to work on their car. No matter who it is. Scout's honor."

Vanessa laughed, a sound Joe realized he hadn't heard in awhile. "Were you ever a Boy Scout?"

"Frank was. Me, not so much." He turned and headed for the stairs. "I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Scout's honor?"

"Of course!"

Vanessa's laughter floated up the stairs after him. "Hey, I'll drive so you can grab a cat nap on the way."

" _Good,"_ Joe thought, yanking the t-shirt over his head. He'd try the cough medicine again on the off chance it might help this time but it had a tendency to make him drowsy. At least with Vanessa driving, he wouldn't worry about falling asleep at the wheel. Leaning in to turn on the shower, he started coughing again. " _Not that I can get much sleep with this stupid cough."_

Arriving at the familiar, well -kept colonial that his parents had owned for as long as he could remember, Joe felt a smile start to tug at his lips. There was something comforting about visiting home, especially around the holidays. Even though he saw his parents frequently and worked with his father, it was these moments of pure relaxation and hanging out with the people he was closest to which made the fall and winter holidays the best time of the year.

Seeing his smile, Vanessa reached over to the driver's seat and gently squeezed Joe's hand. "I'm glad to see you're finally allowing yourself time to relax. FINALLY," she emphasized. "Let's try to get you to do more of that, okay?"

With a quick wink, followed by yet another cough, Joe teased, "Oh, don't worry, Babe. I'm sure you can help me relax later."

Blushing, Vanessa couldn't help but smile. This was exactly what Joe needed at the moment. Truth be told, she was excited to start the holiday season off as well. This first "Meeting of the Minds" was becoming a tradition over the past several years, a time when they, along with Joe's parents, and his brother Frank and his fiancee Callie, got together to iron out the details of how the holidays would work. With family members on all sides and friends too numerous to count, it was truly the most special time of the year.

"Hey! There's Callie!" Joe enthusiastically noted, simultaneously opening the driver's side door. Vanessa watched as Joe bounded up to her best friend and his soon to be sister-in law, enveloping her in a big hug. Only a few steps behind came Frank, with his laptop case in one hand and a big platter of cookies in the other. Vanessa giggled as she watched Joe try to sneak a few cookies, only to have his brother shake his head in what she recognized as a look of affectionate disapproval. Watching all three people whom she loved laughing and teasing filled her with warmth and gratitude.

Opening her own door to follow everyone inside, she couldn't help but to hope that this was the best holiday season ever. _If only Joe would allow himself more moments like this_ , she pondered ruefully. Brushing the nagging fear that these moments of fun and relaxation would be only temporary, Vanessa smiled. _I might as well enjoy it now, then._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few hours later, the Hardys, along with Vanessa and Callie, were seated in the living room.

"So I'm furry, and I'm not a lion. Wait." Joe paused dramatically, standing up and pointing to his head. "Am I a tiger?"

Frank rolled his eyes at his younger brother, who had insisted that this year's planning session game would be _Hedbanz_. "Yes, Joe. You're a tiger. Now can we please finish discussing the time for Thanksgiving din…"

He was cut off by Joe breaking into a ridiculous dance and fist pumping. "Yes! Yes! I TOLD you I'd be the first to guess what I am."

"I'm very proud of you, Joe," Callie managed to respond somewhat seriously. "I was afraid of what your next guess would have been."

Joe laughed and winked at Callie. "Thank you, Sis. At least someone here appreciates my talent."

Frank interjected. "You, too?" he asked Callie. "Between the two of you, we'll never get any plans made!"

Callie sighed dramatically before speaking. "You're right, Frank. Sorry. I thought you had scheduled in 10 minutes of fun this evening, though. My bad." She immediately blew him a kiss to let him know that she was teasing.

Ruefully, Frank shook his head. "I'm sorry. You guys are right. It's just been so busy at work recently and I guess I've been overly stressed."

"Both of you have been!" Vanessa acknowledged. "Come on. The best way to plan for an amazing holiday is to discuss the menu. And, if the delicious scent coming from your mom's kitchen is any indication, she may have already started experimenting with some recipes!" Grabbing Callie by the hand to accompany her into the kitchen to talk with Laura and finalize the plans for Thanksgiving in less than three weeks, she turned around quickly. "I think you two can schedule in a good 20 more minutes of fun!" Blowing Joe a kiss of her own, the girls headed out of the room, leaving the brothers together.

"Have I been that bad?" Frank asked, dejected. "I thought that I had been doing okay until I realized that I think I've seen Callie about four nights over the last three weeks."

"Me, too!" Joe found himself agreeing instantly.

"I didn't realize you saw Callie that often," Frank responded, deadpan, before letting out a little laugh.

Joe smiled, too. It felt good to be here, talking about nothing, playing silly games, NOT thinking. As Frank told another awful joke, Joe found himself laughing again, which immediately led into a cough from which he had a hard time catching his breath.

After a few moments, he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Joe could only nod, trying to breathe deeply and to resume a normal, or even slightly less red, color, to his face. He held up a finger to indicate he needed a moment.

When he looked up, he saw Frank's dark eyes flashing with concern. "Joe? How long have you had that cough? You might need to see a doctor."

Sensing the tension in his brother's voice, and having finally caught his breath, Joe shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine. Just late hours and no time to rest."

"You're sure?" Frank queried, and Joe nodded. It always touched him how much Frank looked out for him. But, never one to revel in a serious moment too long, he took two quick strides across the room, reached down, and grabbed a card, immediately inserting it into a rounded piece of plastic, and then bounded across the room, placing it on top of Frank's head. He placed a second crown on his own head.

"What the-?" Frank began, but Joe covered his own lips in a _shh_ gesture, and immediately interrupted. "You get one question, and I WILL win again," Joe insisted, a twinkle in his eyes.

Chuckling, Frank sat down. "Am I a living thing?" he asked, finally.

Joe just smiled.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Much later that evening, all of the plans had finally been made. Thanksgiving dinner would take place at 4:00 at the Hardy's home, although Joe and Vanessa would be responsible for the appetizers and Frank and Callie would take care of the desserts. Joe had just managed to convince his mother that his parents should host on Black Friday as well, considering how many leftovers there would be.

"With you?" Vanessa teased.

"Hey! I'm a growing boy!" Joe responded, in mock indignation.

"Growing in the wrong direction," Frank teased. It had been a long-standing joke with everyone that, despite Joe being in great shape, he could out-eat anyone, with possibly the exception of Chet Morton, one of their oldest childhood friends.

"Anyway," Joe cut in. "So, there'll be all of us, Callie's parents, Andrea, Biff, Chet, Tony, Phil, and their significant others…"

"Well, honey," Laura, Joe's mother, kindly cut in. "While I'm grateful that this house can hold so many people, we are close to 50 at this point. We may want to consider cutting off the guest list here."

"MOM, you're no fun," Joe pouted.

Vanessa laughed. Joe was the biggest kid of all. And Thanksgiving to him was the startup of the holiday season, a sacred day to celebrate all things home-cooked, family-oriented, and football-infused.

Resigned, Laura shrugged her shoulders. Every year she tried to limit the guest list, and every year it got longer. And, every year, that was because of Joe. Still, she had to play along. "I suppose we might be able to squeeze in just a few more," she acquiesced.

"Yay!" Joe got up to hug his mom. "Thanks, Mom. You're the best!"

"For someone who's not fun…" Laura teased.

As the conversation and laughter continued, Laura got up to make everyone more food. Joe noticed Frank speaking quietly to Callie, and he seemed a bit worried.

"Are you okay?" he asked his brother.

"I'm fine," he answered. "Except that I'm trying to make sure that Callie is, too."

"Why? You okay, Cal?" Joe asked, immediately concerned as well.

"I am 100% fine. Your brother is just overly concerned about me is all," Callie responded lightly.

"I'm not," Frank answered. " I just want to make sure that you're safe. So come on. Answer."

Frank looked at Callie. "Did you take your car in today?"

Callie nodded but sighed. "I told them the brakes have felt funny lately. They said they're backed up and won't be able to work me in for at least a week." She shrugged. "I told them it doesn't happen all the time, just once in awhile. I have an appointment for next Wednesday. Jake, the one who normally works on my car, took a look and said they should be fine until then."

Frank frowned and stabbed at his salad. "I don't like the idea of you driving around if the brakes aren't working properly."

"He said they'd be fine until then," Callie repeated.

The table grew quiet for a few moments until Frank spoke again. "Joe?"

Joe's stomach tightened. He knew what was coming. He also knew what he had promised Vanessa. He knew he couldn't say no.

Avoiding Vanessa's gaze, he met his brothers. "I mean, I'm sure I could take a look. It wouldn't take me long. No problem."

Frank sighed with relief. "Thanks so much, Joe. I just want to make sure she's okay."

"Really, Joe, you don't have to," Callie emphasized. Vanessa had shared her concerns recently about Joe working so much both at his real job as well as the constant hours he was spending helping everyone else at the garage. While she hadn't shared those details with Frank yet, the last thing she wanted to do was burden Joe with any more to do.

"It's just this once!" Joe insisted, coughing slightly again. He finally turned to Vanessa. "I promise. And it's for CALLIE," he pointed out.

"Oh, Joe," Vanessa replied. "I know, but…"

"It's okay. I wouldn't want my sister-in-law...almost.. getting hurt. No problem, Callie."

"Thanks, Joe. I owe you one," Frank answered, sincerely. Then, to lighten the mood, he added, "Like another round of _Hedbanz_?"

"Awesome!" he replied, and headed into the other room before anyone could follow him.

Plopping onto the couch and enjoying the brief silence, Joe closed his eyes. He HAD been working too hard and Vanessa was right; he DID have a hard time saying no. He also was starting to feel worse than what he was letting on, though he had no time to see a doctor. But, it was Callie. What choice did he have? Vanessa would have to understand… wouldn't she?

Hearing the sounds of his family coming to join him now, he could only hope that, in the end, everything would end up okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** _Thank you to the following people who left reviews on chapter 1: Erin Jordan, BMSH, max2013, Nemesis, BeeBee18, and sm2003495. We appreciate the feedback! Since this is a Thanksgiving story, we will post 2-3 chapters a week, with the final chapter posted on Thanksgiving D_ ay.

The Path to Gratitude

Chapter 2

Joe climbed the stairs slowly and walked into the bedroom. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and sighed, which quickly devolved into a coughing spasm. Sitting on the edge of the bed, it was almost two minutes later before the coughing finally subsided. Joe flopped backwards, laying across the bed and threw an arm over his eyes. He would have loved to just drift off to sleep but he'd promised Frank that he'd check the brakes on Callie's car and get them fixed tonight.

He pushed himself back up, took off his work clothes and changed into the t-shirt and jeans he reserved for working on cars. Vanessa had long ago tired of trying to get oil stains and the remnants of whatever was on the garage floor out of his clothes and strongly suggested he keep one or two shirts and a pair of jeans to wear exclusively while in the garage.

Joe walked into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He grabbed a plastic bottle, spun the top off, and measured out a capful of the cough suppressant. He didn't want to break into yet another coughing spasm with his head under a car. ' _Just my luck I'd give myself a concussion.'_ Downing the liquid in one gulp, Joe made face and shuddered. "That is the most disgusting stuff I've ever tasted," he muttered. "Is there a law that says medicine has to taste like crap?" He twisted the cap back on, put it on the counter and hurried out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, giving a longing glance at the bed, and headed down the stairs and out to the garage.

A moment later, Joe flipped a switch as he walked into the garage. The fluorescent lights buzzed for a few seconds and then filled the room with light. Joe looked around and smiled with pride. Unabashedly messy in other parts of his life, Joe kept his garage neat and organized. Opening toolbox drawers and pulling items off the wall hooks, he gathered everything he would need to work on the brakes and lined them all up on the floor. He pulled blocks out from under a work table and put them behind the back wheels of Callie's car. Making sure they were firmly in place to keep the car from rolling backwards, Joe could still hear Biker Conway's voice in his head: " _Safety first kid, especially when you're working alone."_ Biker had been the first one to see Joe's natural talent for working on cars and taught Joe almost everything he knew.

Stifling a yawn that seemed to come out of nowhere, Joe next got the jack and jack stands out. He jacked up the front of the car and put the jack stands under each side. Kneeling down next to the driver's side of the car, Joe removed the lug nuts from the tire and pulled it off, laying it under the chassis. Taking a seat on the floor, Joe wiped an arm across his forehead. When did jacking up a car and taking a tire off become so tiring? Joe pushed himself up off the floor, leaned in through the window and turned the steering wheel towards him. The caliper turned in time with the wheel, giving him easier access to the bolts holding it in place.

He grabbed a socket wrench and loosened the bottom bolt of the caliper then switched to a ratchet and removed the bolt. Next, he wedged a screwdriver into the caliper and popped it open and upward, removed both brake pads, closed the caliper, and put the bolt back in temporarily. He'd need to go back and put the new brake pads in once he changed the rotors.

Next, he used a breaker bar and socket wrench to remove the bolts holding the calipers in place. Expecting them to be tight, he put some muscle behind the breaker bar and was surprised when it flew up, almost striking him in the chin. Joe frowned. ' _That's odd.'_ He pulled the bolt out and examined it closely but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Placing it on the floor, he reached back and picked up a small bungee cord.

He attached one end of the bungee to the strut and the other end to the caliper, the cord holding it up and out of the way. Mentally crossing his fingers, Joe tugged on the rotor, hoping it would pop right off. ' _Of course not.'_ He reached out and grabbed the hammer he'd laid on the floor. Alternately hitting the top and bottom of the rotor several times, it finally loosened and popped off. Just as he thought, it had been rust welded to the hub.

Joe laid the rotor on the floor, stood and stretched. Stifling a yawn he walked to his work table and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a tube of anti-seize lubricant. He turned and almost ran into Vanessa. "Hey, Babe," he smiled. "What are you doing in here?" He stepped around her and sat down on the floor again.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing." She leaned back against the work table. "Did you have something to eat before you came out here?"

Joe stopped what he was doing for a second, not looking up. "Had something to eat before I left the office." Truthfully he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. His appetite had disappeared shortly after the cough had shown up. He didn't want to lie to Vanessa but Joe knew she was already worried and didn't want to give her anything else to stress about.

"Uh-huh." Vanessa crossed her arms and watched him.

Joe squirted some of the lubricant on his finger and rubbed it on the hub. Next time it wouldn't be so hard to get the rotors off.

"How much longer will you be?"

He'd just started working on the first front brake and had three more to go. "Not too long," Joe hedged. He reached out and grabbed the new rotor. He laid it on top of the old one as Biker had taught him, making sure they matched up in size and diameter. "Can you hand me that can?" Joe pointed to a can of brake cleaner.

Vanessa reached down and picked up the can. She walked the few steps and squatted down next to Joe. He reached for the can but she pulled it away. "You look like the walking dead."

"Gee, thanks."

She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm just worried about you. Do you really think I haven't noticed the way your appetite has disappeared? Between that and the non-stop coughing…"

Joe grabbed her hand and kissed it gently. "I know. And you're right. I haven't been feeling great lately. I promise I'll try and get in to see the doctor this week."

"Promise?" Vanessa was skeptical. "And don't give me any of that boy scout crap."

Joe laughed, which quickly turned into a fit of coughing. Vanessa sank down next to him, rubbing circles on his back. Despite the coughing, Joe could still hear her heavy sigh. As the coughing subsided, he reached out and took the can out of her other hand. "Doctor," he croaked. "Promise. But first I have to finish this."

"Never let it be said I can't take a hint." Vanessa gave him a quick kiss and left.

Joe watched her leave, wishing he could follow her. Right now he'd love nothing better than to curl up in bed next to Vanessa and drift off to sleep. Whatever this cough was, it left him feeling wiped out. Joe turned back to the shiny new rotor laying on the floor. He sprayed some brake cleaner on it to remove any oil the manufacturer put on the rotor to keep it from rusting and rubbed it with a soft cloth thinking of his promise to Vanessa. Normally he avoided doctors at all costs, but he didn't want to be sick during the holidays. It was his favorite time of year, but it wouldn't be much fun this year if he was dead tired and coughing every time he tried to breathe.

Putting the cloth aside, Joe popped the new rotor on. He put one lug nut on the rotor to hold it in place. He picked up the bolts he'd removed a few moments earlier and applied some thread locker on the bolts. It was an extra precaution to keep vibrations from loosening them up. ' _Gotta keep my sister safe.'_ He put the caliper back on, slid the bolts back in place, and tightened them up. He tested the caliper for movement, expecting it to be rock solid, and frowned when it still had some give to it.

Joe sat back and stared at the caliper for a moment. He sighed, deciding to change the bolts out with new ones and realized he'd breathed a little too deeply. The coughing started slowly but quickly spiraled out of control. When it finally subsided, Joe leaned back against the car, exhausted and confused. ' _What the hell_ _is_ _this?'_ Almost two weeks earlier, he'd woken up with a scratchy throat, but it had disappeared within a day or two. He'd felt fine until a week later when the coughing had started. Not much at first, just enough to be annoying, but each day it got a little worse. The past few days each cough would quickly turn into coughing spasms that sometimes lasted several minutes at a time. It had been accompanied by sudden fatigue making him want to do nothing but sleep, and a distinct loss of appetite.

Joe hadn't thought too much of it as he didn't have the normal signs of a cold or the flu. No sore throat, no high fever, no stuffy head, no sneezing or runny nose. But the cough was driving him crazy. He was definitely going to keep that promise to Vanessa.

Pushing himself up with great effort, Joe walked over and rummaged through his tool box. He found the right size bolts, glad he'd decided to replenish his supply, and grateful that his friend, Luke Malone, who owned a garage, was happy to order whatever parts Joe needed directly from the manufacturers.

Joe walked back to the car and changed out the bolts, remembering to give them a good dose of thread locker. He tightened them up and finished off with a torque wrench to make sure they were good and tight. Next, he opened the box of brake pads, taking out the pads and clips. He loosened the bottom bolt again, opened the caliper upwards and plied out the old clips. A metal wire brush cleaned the brake dust out.

Joe grabbed the tube of anti-seize and applied some to the clips where they would hold the brake pads. He put some of the lubricant on the back of the brake pads and then snapped the bottom and top clips in place. A jaw cracking yawn took Joe by surprise. He shook his head slightly then leaned back and grabbed the old brake pad and a compressor from the line of tools on the floor. He put the old brake pad against the piston and used the compressor to compress the piston, ensuring the new brake pad would fit snugly.

Joe rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and then lined up the wear indicator and slid the brake pad into place. He repeated the process for the other brake pad then removed the caliper guide pin and examined it for any cracks or excessive wear. It looked to be in good shape so he wiped it clean, put a layer of silicone paste on it, and slid it back in place. Finally he closed the caliper, put the bolt back in, and torqued it tightly. Joe sat back tiredly. ' _One down, three more to go.'_

By the time he was done, Joe felt as if he'd run a marathon. He was exhausted and couldn't wait to get to bed. Joe cleaned the tools and returned them to the toolbox. Walking to the sink, he grabbed the heavy duty soap and began washing his hands, using a brush to scrub under his nails. Once his hands were clean of rust, break dust, and lubricant, he dried them on the nearby towel.

Joe picked up the extra key Callie had given him off the work table. He stared at her car. He had to take it for a test drive, make sure the brakes were working correctly. Dead tired, he gave a fleeting thought to waiting until the morning to take it for a spin then thought better of it. Best to just get it done tonight. His desire to curl up next to Vanessa and fall asleep would have to wait a little while longer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two days later, Joe was walking through the parking lot of his and Vanessa's favorite local café, her hand held tightly in his. They had lunch here at least once a week. Joe stole a glance at Vanessa and smiled. They'd been together for almost seven years now, living together for two, and she still wanted to have lunch with him as often as their work schedules allowed. He was the luckiest guy on earth.

"What?" Vanessa smiled. She'd caught him staring at her.

Joe leaned over and kissed her. "Can't a guy admire his gorgeous girlfriend?"

Vanessa blushed and ducked her head.

' _She has no idea how beautiful she is.'_ Joe's musings on the way his life was playing out was interrupted by a familiar song on his cell phone. Reaching in his pocket he pulled it out and lifted it to his ear. "Hey, Bro, what's up?" He listened for a moment, his blood running cold. "Frank, calm down. I can't understand… _what_?!" Seconds later the phone fell from Joe's hand…


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** _Thank you so much to those of you following the story, and especially for those of you who have left reviews: Iheartninjago201, Caranath, Penlew, BeeBee18, max2013, BMSH, ErinJordan, sm2003495. We always appreciate seeing what people think. Thank you for taking the time to review!_

The Path to Gratitude

Chapter 3

 _"There's been an accident."_ The words had been bad enough, but the pure terror that he had heard in Frank's voice had shaken Joe to the core.

Immediately he had dropped the phone, pausing only long enough to relay Frank's message. Vanessa, horrified, followed after him to his car. Now, as they entered the hospital, he was doing everything in his power to make sure that his imagination didn't run wild. _Deal with it when I get there,_ he told himself over and over.

Feeling Vanessa clutch his hand tightly, he took a quick moment to turn to her as they made their way to the waiting room.

"You okay, Babe?" he asked her, although he knew the answer. Seeing Vanessa wipe her eyes with a tissue, Joe pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. "I know," he whispered.

Vanessa met his gaze, tears filling her light grey eyes. "It's just. Oh, Joe," she sobbed. "What if she's..."

"She's not," Joe replied firmly.

In reality, he had no idea how badly Callie was hurt, or any substantive details about what had happened. Frank had barely been able to speak, and had just managed to convey that there had been a car accident. It was only through a quick conversation that he had had with his father while driving to the hospital, when Joe realized he had no idea which hospital he was supposed to be heading to, that he learned any more information. Fenton, who had been in touch briefly with the Shaws after speaking with Frank, had relayed only that Callie had been driving on a familiar route, that the accident had occurred only a few brief hours ago, and it didn't appear as though any other car had been involved. She had been found unresponsive at the scene.

With one last hug for Vanessa, he headed to the elevator with her, having no idea what he was going to find.

What he found was not quite what he expected. Namely, what he didn't see was his brother.

Vanessa let go of his hand and immediately went to Fenton and Laura, who were sitting down, grave looks on their faces. Following Vanessa, he left her to speak with his mom. He saw his father giving him a slight nod, indicating that he wanted to speak with him alone.

"Is she okay?" Joe asked his father when they were out of earshot.

Fenton sighed and ran a quick hand through his dark hair. The look so closely mirrored his brother that Joe asked at once, "Where's Frank?"

Fenton gave Joe a quick squeeze on his shoulder. "Frank was with the Shaws when the doctor came in to speak with them. He knows all the details; the Shaws, I'm sure, will be here in a few minutes to fill us in." Fenton bit his lip. "I don't know how she is, Joe. She's alive; beyond that, I really don't know."

Joe swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Okay. Did you see which direction he headed? Is he with the Shaws now?"

"I don't think so," Fenton replied sadly. "I thought I saw him heading down the hall alone. Everything that I told you now just literally happened within the last 10 minutes. See if you can find him." Fenton met Joe's eyes. "He's going to need you."

"I'll find him." Joe could already feel his head starting to pound. Walking down the hallway in the direction his brother had headed, it didn't take him long to find Frank, sitting alone in a chair that faced an interior courtyard. He was staring ahead, not moving even when Joe sat down next to him.

"Hey," Joe said softly, folding his hands together in the exact same manner that Frank was doing.

Frank nodded to acknowledge Joe's presence.

"How's Callie?" he inquired, trying to get Frank to speak.

When Frank turned to him, finally, Joe had to mask his expression. Frank's eyes were red- rimmed and glassy. Joe felt his heart drop. He could not remember the last time he had seen his brother cry, and he wrapped an arm around him.

Frank just shook his head before starting to speak, taking in a shaky breath. "Not too good," he managed. He sat up a little straighter and returned to staring out the window.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Joe asked. He was careful navigating his way with Frank so as to not get him more upset than he already was, if that was possible.

Frank took a shaky breath, his gaze never wavering from the window. "I don't know what happened. I got a call on my cell phone from the police that Callie had been in a serious car crash. I was out researching for the O'Brien case we're working on. I didn't even see her today or yesterday. I've been so busy." His voice trailed off.

Joe held back a small cough, and gently rubbed Frank's back, a small sign of comfort that Frank had done for him too many times to count. "I know. Go on."

Frank shook his head, almost as if it was too much for him to continue.

"So what did the doctor tell you?" Joe queried, trying to keep Frank focused, which was getting harder to do.

Frank stood up, walking to the window now. "What they know? Let's see." Frank's voice was tight. "Broken wrist; several broken ribs; numerous contusions and abrasions, and small burns from the air bag deploying."

Joe winced, but tried to reassure his brother. "Okay. But thank God that those injuries are ..."

He was interrupted at once. "There's more," Frank choked.

Joe stood next to him.

"She hasn't regained consciousness and the doctors are very worried. She appears to have a severe concussion." Frank took a shaky breath. "In fact, the swelling is so bad that doctors were just talking to the Shaws and me, and they're thinking about..." He paused, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, "about putting her in a medically induced coma. And they asked us for permission to do so." He turned and faced Joe.

Joe could see how desperately Frank was trying to control his emotions. Though his eyes were filled with tears and his lip was trembling, somehow Frank was managing to hold it together. "How, Joe?! How do we make that decision? If we don't do it, the swelling could get so bad that she could lose oxygen and become brain damaged and die. If we do it, there are so many risks, including infection, which, with all her injuries, is almost a certainty. And again she could die."

Joe's heart was breaking. "Frank, I..."

For the last time, he was interrupted again. "And you know what, Joe?" Frank's eyes revealed just how much pain he was in. "I was TOO BUSY." He raised his hands to his head and rubbed his temples. "I was t _oo busy_ to stop by the apartment. I was _too busy_ to check on her car and make sure she got it taken care of. I was t _oo busy_ to just stop and tell her I loved her..."

Finally, the tears flowed as Frank buried his face in his hands.

Joe reached out and held his brother tightly. He couldn't think of anything to say and his own head was reeling. As he held his normally stoic brother in his arms, he could only hope it was enough.

And he couldn't help but hear Frank's words again and again. _To check on her car? It couldn't have been Callie's car... could it?_

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

"Joe? If you're not ready for this, it's fine. I can do it alone." Fenton paused a moment before walking into the police station to check on his younger son, who looked as shaken as he was feeling.

"I'm fine, Dad," Joe replied dejectedly. "Maybe Collig can shed some light on this. I think if we go back with something- ANYTHING- to give to Frank, it may give him some comfort." Joe was still trying to come to grips with how serious Callie's condition was, the impossible decision that his brother and the Shaws were going to have to make with Callie's life, and the feeling of trying to assume the older brother role that was firmly Frank's to have. He was not used to comforting his older brother, to seeing him vulnerable, but he knew, more than he had known anything in a long time, that he had to be strong for Frank. It was the very least he could do.

"Well, there will be a lot the police don't know at this point," Fenton pointed out as he held the door for Joe. "But you're right. Frank - and the Shaws- could certainly benefit from knowing what happened. I think we all could."

Joe was about to respond when a coughing fit came over him again. Ignoring the look on his father's face, he pointed in the general direction of the bathroom at the station. _I've been at the station so many times in my life I could have been the architect,_ he reflected ruefully.

It took at least several minutes for his fit to calm down, and, when it did, Joe found himself shaky and sweating. He had to admit it; he was getting sick more quickly than he'd expected. The coughing spasms were getting more frequent, and he was starting to get light-headed and off balance from them. His head was hurting from the force of the coughing and occasionally he found himself struggling for breath. Still, as he paused to wash his face and stare at his reflection in the mirror, he knew that Callie's condition and Frank's mental state were what mattered now, not fighting a cold.

As he approached his father, who was waiting to speak with Chief Collig, Fenton pulled him to the side. "Listen to me," he said sternly, his dark eyes boring into Joe's blue ones. "I know that your brother and Callie take priority right now, but you're to go directly to doctor as soon as you can. Can you give me your word that you will?" Before Joe could answer, Fenton added, "I don't think I can deal with your mother's wrath right now if she found out I didn't at least give you the message."

In spite of himself, Joe managed a small smile, touched by his father's concern even in the midst of this nightmare. "Yes, Sir," he answered formally, and raised his fingers to his head in a mock salute.

Fenton rolled his eyes. "Just do it," he emphasized, then gave Joe a quick pat on the back.

In another moment, Chief Collig appeared and shook both Joe and Fenton's hands. "Come to my office," he stated, and they followed him back.

"How's Frank doing?" Collig asked, looking directly at Fenton. Joe sighed. Despite working with the police chief for years, and having a great working relationship with him, he still had to overcome the stigma of being Fenton's kid, which would always be a hurdle, since Fenton and Ezra Collig had been personal friends ever since Joe could remember.

"He's devastated," Fenton replied honestly, and went on to relay the news about Callie's condition that he had received from Liz and Robert Shaw. Collig shook his head sympathetically. "I'm truly sorry," the chief replied. "I've met Callie many times over the years, and she's a lovely young lady. She'll be in my prayers."

"Thanks," Fenton replied. "She'll need them."

"I have to tell you, my friend, that Callie may have a guardian angel anyway. I have no idea how she made it. The car was totalled," Ezra stated plainly. "Really, she should have died."

Joe gasped. Hearing the words cut him to the core.

"I'm sorry, Joe. I didn't mean that as a wish; I meant it as a fact," Collig added quickly.

"Do you have any facts, speaking of which?" Joe questioned, again trying to suppress a cough unsuccessfully. "How did this happen? It's a clear, beautiful day out. Callie's an embarrassingly careful driver- I don't think she's gone over 55 a day in her life." Joe had to swallow the lump in his throat as he thought of that stupid little fact over which he used to tease Callie relentlessly. _She has to be okay. She HAS to be._ It took all his willpower to stay focused.

Fenton placed his hand over Joe's quickly, sensing his change of demeanor, before releasing it.

"That's why we're here, Ezra, as you know." Fenton met his friend's eye. "Callie is a good driver. Was there any indication of what caused the accident? Did she try to avoid an animal? An oncoming car? Did she brake unexpectedly and skid? Do you know anything at all?"

"The car is being looked at right now, Fenton. There was not an abundance of leaves in the area on that road. Oddly, there were no skid marks on the road, either," Collig replied.

Joe sat up a bit straighter. "Why do you say 'oddly', Chief?" Joe asked. Something wasn't sitting right with him. He just couldn't think quickly enough at the moment.

"Because, Joe," Fenton answered, suddenly very alert. "It means that Callie didn't brake at all."

It took Joe a moment. "What? No! That's impossible. Only people who try to kill themselves don't brake. No way!" His heart was pounding.

"Well, yes- that is one possibility," Collig agreed. "And it's the one thing I thought about first… until I saw who the victim was. Although I formally have to research that angle, everything I know suggests that Callie is emotionally stable. Unless something happened recently- the loss of a job, a broken engagement, something like that-it's really out of character for the young woman I know. Is there anything I should know in regards to that?" Collig pressed gently.

"No!" Joe answered, almost shouting. Again, Fenton followed up. "No, there's not. We all saw Callie a few days ago. Everything was fine."

"Well, assuming that's true, then there are only a few other possibilities," Collig answered.

"Such as?" Joe couldn't fight the anxious feeling starting to overcome him.

"Falling asleep at the wheel, for one. Sickness and passing out, for another. It'd have to be one of those, unless something was wrong with the car- either a defective part or a really unqualified mechanic. Do either of you know if she had any work done recently on her car?"

Joe pushed back his chair and bolted from the office, running back into the bathroom. There, he immediately threw up before he was able to pick himself off the floor.

 _No no no no no. I did this?! I… I checked. I triple checked._ But no matter how rational his argument was, somehow he knew. _It was me. Oh, God. I'm sorry._

He simply sat down, unable to comprehend what he'd just heard, and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** _Thank you so much to those following the story, and especially for those of you who took the time to leave reviews. You are much appreciated! To that end, thank you to Paulina Ann, EvergreenDreamweaver, Caranath, max 2013, Erin Jordan, and BMSH for your reviews on the last chapter._

The Path to Gratitude

Chapter 4

As soon as could pull himself out of the initial shock at the station, Joe had told both Collig and his father about the work that he had done on Callie's car. He walked them through the procedure, explained how he had changed the brake pads and rotors and even put new caliper bolts on the front brakes because the old ones just weren't tight enough. He told them how he had done numerous brake jobs throughout the years and he was always careful. He was especially careful with Callie, he'd thought, because Frank had asked him to take care of her, and he had given his word that he would do so. He had double and triple checked his work, to make sure that it was done correctly; he had even taken the car for a quick test drive to make sure it handled properly.

But he'd been so tired. He'd been exhausted. He'd been sick. Those were the fears that raced through his mind as he told his father and Collig what had transpired.

Joe found he could not meet his father's eyes as he confessed. It was like he was six years old and in trouble. Even then, he'd been more concerned about disappointing his father than any punishment that could have been inflicted upon him.

When he did look up, he noticed that Collig was no longer there. Here he was, alone with his father.

"Oh, Joe," Fenton sighed. He hugged Joe, who fought back tears that were threatening to spill over. "It's… it WILL be, I mean… okay." Gently, he released him.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Joe replied, not trusting himself with more words.

"I know," Fenton answered. "This just isn't like you. Were you distracted? You said you checked it out yourself, right?"

Joe could only nod.

"Okay. Well, I guess we'll just have to wait for the report from the garage, which takes a few hours. Who knows?" Fenton asked with forced optimism. "Maybe it was nothing you did. I mean, if you checked, and I'm sure you did, maybe Callie did have some sort of medical episode."

"Maybe." Joe could only muster responses in a clipped tone, not trusting his voice not to betray all of his emotions. He coughed a few times before again meeting his father's gaze.

"Let's not put the cart before the horse, then," Fenton concluded logically, squeezing Joe's shoulder. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Fenton managed a small smile. "I can't think of any more cliches right now."

Joe fought back the tears. "Yeah, well…"

Fenton continued. "I think I'll head back to the hospital. Let's see what happens with the report. You go home and rest for a few hours. I know you'll want to come back to the hospital later."

"Any updates on Callie?"

"No," Fenton answered, checking his phone again for any texts from Laura or Frank. "But no news is good news."

Joe managed a dark chuckle in spite of himself. He weakly responded, when he saw Fenton's questioning look. "I think you found your third cliche."

Fenton reached over to give Joe one more quick hug. "Third time's a charm." Winking at Joe, he repeated, "Go home. Rest." Suddenly more somber, he added, "Really. We all need to hold it together right now."

As Joe followed his father out of the station, he couldn't help but to wonder how he could hold it together when everything was so quickly falling apart.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The call came with the certainty that night would be followed by day. Ever since Collig's speculation that something mechanically had been wrong in Callie's car that may have caused her accident, he had known it was true.

Looking down at his cell phone, he saw the familiar number appear.

"Hello?" Joe asked tentatively, picking up with trembling fingers.

"Joe?" He heard Collig's familiar voice at the other end.

"Any news?" he managed.

"Actually, yes," Collig replied. Joe could hear the strain in his voice. "The report just came back from the garage. Did you say you had replaced the caliper bolts on the front brakes with new ones?"

Joe's voice was shaky. "Yes."

"Simmonds, the lead investigator, said both front calipers had fallen off the car."

"What?! That… that's just not possible. I mean, that doesn't happen!"

"Well, it did this time. They found both calipers almost half a mile behind where Callie's car finally came to rest.".

"I...I don't understand."

"They're still looking for the bolts." There was an awkward silence. "Simmonds said the only way the calipers could come loose is if the bolts weren't installed properly."

"But, they were. At least… I thought they were. I double checked them. The whole reason I put new caliper bolts on was because the old ones were loose."

Collig's voice was softer. "Are you sure you put new ones on? Are you sure you didn't put the old ones back on by mistake?"

"Yes. I mean…" Joe felt sick. "I thought I did."

"We're still investigating. We want to find those bolts, but it seems pretty clear they were the cause of the crash." An awkward silence hung heavy between them. "I'm sorry, Joe. I just wanted to be the first to confirm your suspicions."

Suddenly feeling light-headed, Joe realized that he had forgotten to breathe as he heard the inevitable words. "Okay," he managed.

After a considerable pause, he heard Collig continue. "Joe, I know this is an incredibly difficult time for your family right now, but I have no choice but to inform the Shaws about what's happened. They can," Collig cleared his throat before continuing, "I mean, they have a right to, uh…" With a resigned sigh, Collig finished. "They have a right to file a civil suit against you, Joe. I don't know that they can, or they will, or what they'll think at all. But I wanted to let you know that that possibility does exist. I'm sorry, Son," he repeated.

Managing a feeble "thanks," he pressed the button to end the call. _Thanks. Your life is ruined and all you can say is 'thanks.'_ Joe swallowed the lump in his throat as he fought back a cough. He didn't even care that Callie's parents could sue him; it was the least of his problems. Callie could die. She could _die._ The thought again cut him to his core.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This can't be happening." It was a sentiment that Joe found himself muttering over and over again as he opened the door to the home he shared with Vanessa. Wearily, he made his way to their bedroom, where he grabbed an extra sweatshirt to throw over the shirt he was wearing to fight the chills starting to take over his body.

Coughing, he went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed several Tylenols which he hastily finished. It hurt. Everything hurt: his body, his mind, his conscience, his entire being. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he saw staring back at him a much older, more strained version of himself.

 _I'm not the only one hurting,_ he chastised himself mentally. And he knew what had to be done.

Somehow, he had to tell Vanessa, Frank, the Shaws, and his parents that he was the one responsible for Callie's accident. He was the reason that Callie might die. As unspeakable as it was, he knew he had to take responsibility for what had occurred.

Shakily, he walked to the exit of his home, pausing for a few long moments. The very real knowledge that this might be the last time he was allowed back hit him hard. Still, he owed it to everyone to admit to what he'd done, if only because they deserved to know the truth. The bitterness that he had only tried to help had long since been replaced by horrible disappointment in himself that he had been so careless, and the very real fear that he would lose those closest to him who could not help but to blame him.

It didn't matter anyway. He had to do the right thing. Slowly, he closed the door. He didn't look back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He couldn't avoid it now. Joe checked his watch that read 9:00 p.m. Because of the seriousness of Callie's condition and her presence in the ICU, the term "visiting hours" was more of a suggestion than a fact. He would talk to Vanessa later; she had left for the night at his parents' insistence, already planning her return early tomorrow morning. He had spoken with his own parents earlier, who, though shocked, had been predictably supportive. He knew that by now, the Shaws would have received the phone call from Collig, and that he would have to speak with them personally when he saw them. THAT conversation would be painful.

But it was this one that he was dreading the most.

He found Frank in the worst possible location; right inside Callie's room. Joe took a deep breath before, again, halting a coughing fit. _Well, that was subtle_.

Frank looked up. He had been standing by Callie's bed, fingers loosely intertwined in hers.

Joe caught his breath. The room was eerily silent, exacerbated only by the constant heart monitor and machinery whirring in the background. IVs, needles, doctors' notes all around. It was standard for Joe and Frank, but not for their loved ones. It was wrong. Callie was very pale, covered in bruises and scrapes, with a bandage wound tightly around her head. _This is surreal. She doesn't belong here._ It was all he could do to turn from Callie to meet Frank's stare.

Frank walked over to him and motioned him to the other side of the room. Then he saw it; the slight twitch in his brother's jaw. It took only a moment for Joe to recognize that his brother was angry and moving away from Callie. _He's trying to protect her_ , he realized at once. _From me?!_

"Dad told me," Frank replied, voice deadly calm.

Joe hadn't been expecting that. "I… uh…" He was stammering, coughing, caught totally off guard.

"How could you, Joe?" Frank grabbed his arm, forcefully. "How could you let this happen?" His brother's eyes were boring into him.

"I don't know," Joe managed, finally. "I checked, Frank. I did!" He emphasized, desperate to make sure that Frank understood. "I keep thinking of what I could have done wrong. I checked it. I double checked it. I even test drove her car. I would never hurt Callie, Frank- you know that."

Frank didn't let go of his arm, squeezing tighter. Joe saw the agony in Frank's eyes, the way he was trying with all his might to control his temper, and it crushed him. If disappointing his father was bad, disappointing his big brother was a thousand times worse. He was almost speechless.

"But Joe," Frank continued, finally freeing his arm. "You DID hurt Callie. She…" Frank cleared his throat, coughing back tears. "She trusted you. _I_ trusted you. If you couldn't take care of her car properly… if you didn't have time…" Each phase was choked out as Frank struggled for control. "Why didn't you just tell me? Why, Joe? WHY?" Frank's voice rose as his lips quivered.

Joe's heart broke. He couldn't remember ever seeing Frank so upset. Knowing he was the cause of it was unbearable. Frank wanted answers and he honestly had none to give. "I'm sorry, Frank. I'm so sorry." He could barely think.

"YOU'RE sorry?" Frank flushed with anger, his hands grabbing Joe by the jacket and shoving him into the wall. "YOU are sorry?" Frank was inches from his face. "Callie is hurt, Joe. IF she makes it through the next 48 hours and she doesn't DIE, then she may have have irreversible brain damage and she may never be the same. Of course," he spat out, "now I have been forced to make a decision that, should she NOT make it," Frank was shaking so badly he actually looked like he would explode, "I will have to live with for the rest of my life. But YOU are sorry."

Joe didn't flinch, determined to take whatever Frank needed to give. "I... I am, Frank. I'm so sorry." He repeated the words, knowing they sounded so hollow.

Frank tensed even more and released his right hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw it curl into a fist. Joe swallowed hard and prepared for the punch he thought he deserved.

Before Frank could follow through, he caught sight of Callie out of the corner of his eye and, almost as suddenly as it had started, all the fight left him. Frank let go of Joe's jacket, walked to the chair next to Callie's bedside, and weakly sat down.

"I don't know what I can ever say to you to make up for this," Joe managed. He had nothing left but the truth. Walking to his brother, he continued, unable to control his tears."I am not making any excuses," he started. "I did this. I didn't mean to do it, but I did it." Joe choked back a sob. "I love Callie and I love you. And I'm sorry - I'm so, so sorry- that I did this. I can't make it better and I can't go back. And I'm not going to ask you to forgive me because I will NEVER forgive myself." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "You're right," Joe continued. "With everything you said. If I couldn't have done it correctly, I shouldn't have done it. It doesn't matter that I thought I had done my best, because I obviously didn't. I'm gonna go now. I don't think I should be here."

"Joe. No- wait." He heard his brother's voice behind him as he exited the room, but he didn't pause. It was too late now to look back and turn around. In more ways than one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** _Thank you to everyone following the story, and especially those who took the time to review. For your kind feedback on chapter 4, thank you to iheartninjago201, Paulina Ann, shee1, FaHB08, EvergreenDreamweaver, BeeBee18, BMSH, Erin Jordan, max2013, and Caranath. We always enjoy reading your reviews and appreciate your support._

The Path to Gratitude

Chapter 5

"So you all agree with the decision?" The doctor's voice, compassionate yet businesslike, reverberated in Frank's mind. He murmured his assent to the doctor, along with the Shaws, before immediately excusing himself. No medically-induced coma would take place; "nature would have to take its course". Would nature do that to him- take from him the one person who mattered most? Callie hadn't gotten worse, and, while it wasn't quite the same thing as saying that she had gotten better, it had been the impetus for the decision. Now, he found himself at the hospital's cafeteria, taking a long, slow sip of his black coffee. It burned his throat and he was grateful for it; it felt good. Anything now to awake the numbness into which he was falling was welcome.

Frank took slow breaths, willing himself to stay somewhat in control of his emotions, something he had uncharacteristically been unable to do very well over the past two days. He hadn't slept; he hadn't eaten. _How could life change so drastically in a day?_ he asked himself for the umpteenth time.

Callie, of course, was foremost in his mind. What would he do without her? How could he go on? The thought was too much for him as he set his coffee down with, he realized, hands that were still trembling. And then there was Joe. Thinking about his brother caused his stomach to lurch and, again, a wave of nausea passed over him. He had never lashed out at his brother like he had last night and he was still trying to come to terms with it. Logically, he knew that Joe hadn't meant to cause any harm. In reality, he'd do anything FOR Callie; for him. But his emotions were running high, and he couldn't understand how Joe had been so careless. _How could he not have taken extra time to make sure the car was okay?_ And then there was guilt- his own simple, unwavering, guilt. Why had he asked Joe in the first place? Why hadn't he just taken Callie's car in himself, taken a few hours off work to make sure she was okay? The thought again caused his eyes to burn.

"You okay, Son?" Mr. Shaw had taken a seat next to him. Before Frank could answer, Mr. Shaw continued. "We did the best we could, Frank. We'll never know if it was the right choice until we know the outcome." His eyes shone with tears despite the gentle smile that was on his face.

Frank met his eyes. Over the many years he had been together with Callie, her parents had become very much like his second family. At the beginning of their relationship- the first few years, in fact- it had been extremely difficult with both families who thought that they were too young to have such a serious relationship. Adding to that was Joe and Callie's constant bickering in high school on his side, and, on Callie's, her parents' real fear that she would get hurt because of him. _And now that's happened._ Again, the guilt gnawed at him.

As though he could read his thoughts, Mr. Shaw continued speaking. "It's not your fault, Frank." Looking at the man who who would soon be his father -in-law, Frank could only manage, "I'm so sorry."

"Frank," Mr. Shaw continued, reaching over to cup the back of his neck. "I'm going to say it again. This isn't your fault. I don't know why it happened and maybe I'll never know. But you have to have faith that Callie will be okay. You have to hold onto hope that this is the very worst thing that the two of you will ever have to face in your relationship." He affectionately patted the back of Frank's neck.

Frank rested his head in his hand. Once Callie's dad had accepted the fact that Frank loved her sincerely, he had become one of his biggest allies. It was similar to when, after Iola had died, Joe finally understood that if he couldn't break them up, he might as well protect Callie and know her better. To that end, Callie and Joe had grown very close over the years, and had become very special friends; almost family.

"How can you be so positive?" he asked Mr. Shaw, at last. "'I… I'm trying to be," Frank went on. "But it's so hard. I will try, though. For Callie." He drew in a shaky breath.

Mr. Shaw smiled. "That's all you can do, Son." He cleared his throat. "Frank? There's just one thing I wanted to mention to you. Liz did, too, but she's with Callie now."

"Okay." Frank was puzzled.

"Last night, we heard you in Callie's room... um… _speaking_ with your brother."

Frank felt his face flush. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Mr. Shaw replied. "It's just that," he paused before continuing. "I've told you this isn't your fault several times, because I know you- and I know that, no matter how many times I tell you, you won't believe me. But you still need to know it's true. And even if _you_ don't believe it, I do. So does everyone else. And I know Callie would tell you the same thing."

Frank swallowed the lump in his throat and managed a quick nod.

"But I also wanted to tell you- this isn't your brother's fault, either."

Shocked, Frank looked up at last.

"It's not," Mr. Shaw emphasized. "Like you, I was angry. I was shocked. I still don't know what Joe did or did not do to that car." He stood up. Frank saw how difficult the words were for him. "Honestly, part of me is still furious, but I can't be. Because I thought about it. And it's my job to speak to you on behalf of my daughter who, I assure you, would tell you this herself."

Frank's heart was pounding. He couldn't look away.

"She would tell you accidents happen. She would tell you that Joe is her friend and that she cares about him. She would have told you to stop it when you yelled at him last night. Me? I probably would have done more than yelled." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I want answers, Frank. But I can be bitter, or angry, or hateful, and it won't change the outcome. I can tell you this, though- no matter how careless Joe may or may not have been, no matter how upset or furious we are with him- I know that he would never have done this on purpose. I could hear the terrible pain in his voice last night. And yours."

Frank felt himself trembling. It was too much.

"I know you're not there yet. I know you're not ready to forgive him; I don't know if I am, either. But Callie would be ready; she probably wouldn't have blamed him to start with. She's a better person than either of us, that's for sure. So just promise me that you'll try to first forgive yourself, and then to forgive your brother. No matter what happens." His voice broke. "No matter what happens," he repeated.

Frank stood quickly and embraced this man who had been a second father to him for so long. "I promise," he managed. _Even if I have no idea how to start._

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Vanessa stood at the window, hands curled around a cup of coffee, and watched the waves of the Atlantic ocean crash against the shore. Despite the warmth of the cup, she shivered. Joe had arrived home at some point during the night, but she'd already been asleep. She awoke early, exhausted. While she'd slept through the night, it hadn't been restful. Nightmares of Callie's funeral had filled her dreams, so real they left her chilled.

"Hey."

Joe's voice made her jump. She hadn't heard him get up or come downstairs, a testament to how tired she was. Vanessa turned towards him and her stomach dropped. He looked awful. There were shadows under his eyes and he was noticeably pale; whether because he was sick or just sick with worry she wasn't sure. But it was the look _in_ his eyes that worried her the most. Fear mixed with guilt, the kind of guilt she hadn't seen in years, and it scared her.

Vanessa put down the coffee and approached him with a smile. "Hey, yourself." She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. Joe put his arms around her waist and pulled her even closer, holding her tightly. When she loosened her grip, he tightened his. Again she felt a chill. This wasn't just worry for Callie; something more was going on. "It's okay, Joe. Everything will be okay." His arms grew tighter and she heard what sounded like a choked sob. Her anxiety grew, but she held him silently until he released her.

Joe stepped back, putting some distance between them. Vanessa wrapped her arms around herself. This was so unlike him. He took a deep, shaky breath and immediately started to cough. She stepped forward, aching to comfort him, but he shook his head, took another step back and waved her off. The cough was worse; it sounded almost physically painful. Finally it subsided and he took another breath, this one shaky and shallow.

"Chief Collig called me last night." Joe said.

"Chief Collig?" Vanessa repeated, puzzled. "Why would he -"

"Please, Van, just let me get this out."

She nodded silently, hugging herself. Anxiety turned to fear.

"They found the cause of the accident. It… the… it was the brakes." Joe's voice shook. "The front calipers fell off."

Vanessa frowned. Admittedly she didn't know much about brakes. She knew Joe had changed the brake pads and rotors; he'd told her as much. She had no idea what calipers were or what they had to do with the brakes. "I don't understand."

"I changed them. The old bolts on the calipers were loose. I was worried the vibrations from driving would loosen them to the point they might fall off, so I changed them." His voice broke. "At least I thought I did. I don't know. I was tired. Maybe I just thought I changed them. Maybe I put the old ones back on instead of the new ones. They found the calipers about a half a mile behind where her car finally stopped. They still haven't found the bolts."

Realization dawned slowly. "He… he said the accident was your fault?" Vanessa felt sick. If it was true, this would kill Joe.

"Calipers don't just fall off, Van. I've gone over it in my head a thousand times. I was so sure I put the new ones on. I even test drove the car. Everything was fine. No vibrations, no shimmy. Nothing."

"Did you check your toolbox? If you put the old ones back on, the new ones should still be there, right?" Vanessa offered what she thought was a logical answer, but Joe was already shaking his head.

"No. I bought them in bulk from Luke. I have no idea how many there were to start with." Joe fought back tears. "This was my fault. Callie could die and it's my fault."

Vanessa couldn't stand it anymore. Her heart hurt for Joe. She rushed forward and once again wrapped her arms around him. He cried into her shoulder. ' _I told him,'_ she thought sadly, fighting back tears of her own. She'd never say it out loud, but this was why she had begged him to stop working on cars for a while. Between the long hours at work and the damn cough, he'd become exhausted. Her biggest fear had been he'd overlook something while working on a car and now it was a reality. But a bigger fear wrapped around her heart.

Vanessa knew Joe still hadn't fully forgiven himself for Iola's death. Somewhere, deep inside, he still blamed himself. If Callie didn't make it, she wasn't sure Joe would, either.

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Joe found himself again in front of his parents' house. Yesterday had been one of the worst days of his life and today was not much better. The conversation, if he could call it that, with Frank, had been awful. The haunted look in his brother's eyes and the words he'd uttered tore at his heart. Knowing that he had been the cause of Frank's pain and Callie's injuries was unbearable. No matter how supportive everyone was trying to be, he saw the accusation in their eyes, heard the false reassurances in their voices.

Joe leaned his head back against the driver's seat and inhaled deeply before breaking into a coughing spasm so hard he thought he wouldn't ever catch his breath. _This is insane_ , he thought, weakly. Now, in addition to the coughing spells, he was starting to feel a dull pressure in his chest and he was constantly threatening to succumb to his exhaustion. It was a nightmare and there was no awakening from it.

Still, maybe here, at his childhood home, he could get a few hours rest and have time to collect his thoughts. Go over, again, every step he'd taken with Callie's car and try to pinpoint what he'd gone wrong. He fought back the empty, sick feeling that it didn't matter anyway. Still, he wanted to know. His relationship with Frank may have suffered irreversible damage, and Callie… _No. I can't deal with that now._

Getting out of the car, he walked out and let himself in the house. He was about to go to his old bedroom when he noticed a plate of cookies that had been left out from their pre-Thanksgiving gathering just five short days ago. The sight brought unexpected tears to his eyes. Five days ago. How had his world managed to collapse in under a week? Walking to the platter, he saw that only a few cookies remained and was struck by the memory of Frank and Callie, laughing, trying to balance that plate as they had entered the same door. He had sneaked a few cookies then, never one to resist Callie's amazing baking skills. How easy it had been then, joking and relaxing with those who mattered most to him. With a start, he realized that Thanksgiving had turned into a day to hang out and watch football more than a day to give true thanks for all he and his family had been blessed with. _If I ever get a chance to have another holiday with them all, I will never forget what gratitude really means._ He fought back the sick feeling that it truly might never happen again.

He grabbed a cookie and sat down forlornly at the kitchen table. His head hurt; he fought to stay awake. As his nibbled at the cookie, he heard voices in the hall.

 _That's weird._ He had been sure his parents would have been at the hospital. Before he could get up to inform his parents that he was there, he made out a few words, and his heart froze.

"I don't know how he could have let it happen, either." Laura spoke softly, as if the words were painful for her to utter.

Fighting panic, he moved closer to the door. Normally, he would never listen into a private conversation of his parents, but he had to know what they were saying.

"That's the thing, Laura," Joe heard his father answer. "Joe is normally so careful. He explained to me and to Ezra, step by step, what he had done. He sounded pretty sure of himself. He didn't try to make excuses and he immediately owned up to it."

"Then how did it happen, Fenton? How?" Joe heard his mother's voice falter, and he had to hold back his own tears again.

"I don't know, Mom," he whispered.

"Maybe it's my fault," he heard his father reply. "I should have told him to see a doctor- I meant to- but I didn't follow through. If he was that sick, maybe…I don't know. Maybe he made careless mistakes and maybe I should have told him no when I learned he was going to help Callie."

"No, Dad," Joe mouthed. "It's not your fault."

"Well, I don't know and I almost don't care," Laura answered tearfully. "But I do know this. I cannot look at the Shaws and not feel horrible guilt. I think of how many times we've been there with our boys, but we've been lucky. Callie may die, Fenton! She's like our daughter. What will we do?"

"Laura…" Fenton tried to interrupt.

"No, Fenton. Listen!" she went on forcefully. "It's worse. If she dies, we lose Frank. He's crushed. It's killing him! I don't know if he will ever recover. And we are losing Joe, too. Because how can he go on knowing that he caused this? How can he live with himself?"

Tears streaming from his eyes, Joe turned, walked out of the house, and headed for his car. _I can't,_ he answered his mother's inquiry silently. _And I'm so sorry that I've ruined everyone's lives._

He slid in his car weakly, wiping back the tears, knowing he had nowhere to go. Backing out of the driveway, he tried to stay awake. And it came to him out of the blue, as it did at the worst times of his life.

He belonged with the dead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note** : _This is a shorter chapter than the others, but we hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much to those following and reviewing the story- you are appreciated! Thanks to Candylou, FanHB08, Constitution Chic, Paulina Ann, max2013, EvergreenDreamweaver, BMSH, ErinJordan, Caranath, Penlew, and Guest for your reviews since the last chapter. You made our day!_

The Path to Gratitude

Chapter 6

Joe pulled into the Bayport cemetery and slowly drove the winding, familiar path. He long ago stopped wondering what people would think if they knew he came here to talk to his long dead girlfriend when he was feeling overwhelmed. Not that it mattered; Frank was the only one who knew of Joe's visits and that secret would never be shared with another soul. ' _Frank…'_ Joe couldn't stop thinking about their confrontation at the hospital. He almost wished Frank had hit him.

He came to a stop in front of the Morton's mausoleum and sat for a moment. After all these years he still had to take a few moments to compose himself. There had been nothing left of Iola to bury. As a result, there was just a marble stone in the wall of the mausoleum bearing her name, the dates of her much too short lifespan, and the words "Beloved daughter and sister".

Joe got out of the car and walked to the heavy stone door. He reached for the handle, took a deep breath and started to cough violently. Doubled over, he leaned against the door for support, barely able to catch a breath between coughing spasms. It was almost a full five minutes before he finally straightened up, feeling exhausted. Ignoring the burning in his chest, Joe pulled the door open and stepped inside. He walked to the far end of the room and stopped in front of the stone.

For a moment, Joe just stared at the polished marble. ' _She was a beloved girlfriend, too.'_ he thought sadly. He pulled off his gloves and reached out, his fingers brushing over the letters of her name. He leaned his forehead against the cold stone and closed his eyes, standing in silence for several minutes. He could feel Iola's presence surround him.

"Iola… I really screwed up this time," he whispered. He stepped back, leaned against the opposite wall and slowly slid down, until he was seated on the floor. "Callie might die, and it's my fault." He stared at Iola's name, exhaustion and tears blurring the letters. His fingers twisted involuntarily.

"I've tried so hard, worked so hard to change. To grow up, you know? Be more mature. Think before I act. Take responsibility." His breath hitched and he began coughing again. Joe put a hand to his chest, his lungs burning. "I should've just told Frank no when he asked me to fix Callie's brakes. He might have been annoyed with me, mad at me for a few days but he would've gotten over it. Now… now, if Callie doesn't make it, he'll never forgive me. And I don't blame him at all." He stared at Iola's name. "You know, I still don't understand how I could've messed up so badly. I purposely changed those damn bolts _because_ they were loose. How could I have been so tired that I put the same bad bolts back on the car? Iola… what if I killed her?"

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 _Hmmmph_. Frank shifted his position ever so slightly when he felt a light touch on his hand. He willed his eyes to open, but they wouldn't. He was tired. So, so tired. He tried to concentrate.

He didn't know how long he had gone without sleeping- two days? three days? He had been physically weak and had almost passed out yesterday after speaking with Mr. Shaw. Finally admitting that the only way to gather enough strength to survive his time here was to get some rest, he had made his way back to Callie's room. There was no way he was leaving her.

He hated the room. It brought to him only awful realities that he wasn't prepared to deal with. He again remembered almost hitting his brother; the rage he experienced was unlike anything he had felt before. He felt hopeless and guilty and a failure to have let any harm come to the woman he loved so much. The questions and consequences that came from the accident were too overwhelming for him to process at once. So, despondently, he took a seat next to Callie's bed and closed his eyes for just a minute.

Now, he couldn't open them.

He felt a gentle touch. Why couldn't he open his eyes?

"Frank?" He heard his name. Someone was trying to wake him, but he just wanted to sleep, to block out the world and fade into nothingness.

"Frank, please." The voice was gentle, far away.

"Mom?" he murmured. "Tryna rest." He vaguely heard himself slur a response.

"Frank, help."

THAT got his attention. Forcing his eyes open, it took him several seconds to adjust his burning eyes and blurry vision back to reality. "Wha-" he began, sitting up to clear the fog in his brain. How long had he been sleeping? _Not long enough_.

Again, he heard the voice, barely above a whisper. He stood, looked up, and saw no one. Then he turned around.

"Callie?" he gasped. It couldn't be.

It was.

And, all at once, time froze. He couldn't breathe.

"Frank? What's happening?" she mouthed, terror in her eyes. She tried to move and moaned. Her face crumpled in pain.

At once, Frank reached down and gently cupped her face in his hands, kissing her forehead, cheek, and lips quickly. "You're okay, Baby. Everything's going to be okay."

He released one hand and pressed the button for the nurse on call.

"I'm scared," she whimpered. "Everything hurts."

As he heard footsteps coming down the hall, Frank tenderly pushed back her hair, whispering in her ear, "It's okay. I'm not leaving you. Don't you leave me again. Promise?"

And even though she could barely register what was going on, even though the pain was surely making her sick, she met his gaze, if only for a moment. She nodded slowly, her heavy eyes never leaving his. "Promise," she managed, before exhaustion won out and her eyes closed.

Weak with relief, Frank sank into the chair by Callie's bed, never letting go of her hand. It was the most painfully joyous moment of his life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** _We are behind on our posting schedule, so this story won't be finished until the week after the holiday. We wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving! Best, Cheryl and Alaina_

 _Also, thank you, as always, to those following the story and especially for those who have left reviews since the last chapter: FanHB08, Constitution Chic, curlingduck, EvergreenDreamweaver, max2013, Caranath, BMSH, Candylou, ErinJordan, and Paulina Ann. Also, a quick thanks to those who have left reviews on "Civil Skirmishes", since the next chapter won't be up before Thanksgiving, either._

The Path to Gratitude

Chapter 7

Even though he had told Callie that he wouldn't leave, exhaustion won out. Days of no sleeping and eating had made him unable to think straight and left him weak. Seeing his demeanor, and knowing that Callie had finally regained consciousness, both his father and the Shaws had insisted that he go home to get some rest. In fact, Fenton had driven Frank to the apartment he shared with Callie, fearing that Frank might fall asleep behind the wheel.

Still, Frank had been reluctant to leave. Callie had only regained consciousness for a short time, and she was being watched closely. He felt that, if he left, he might lose her again. Even when both the Shaws and his own parents had promised to text him every hour, it had barely been enough to convince him to leave Callie's side. Now, though, he saw that they had been right.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since he had left the hospital, and now he was back. Although he could have slept for days, Frank was just starting to feel human again. Sleep, some food, a shower, and a shave had done wonders for his mental state.

Frank looked down at his cell phone as he walked through the front entrance to the hospital. There were at least 30 text messages he had to go through again before he lost more data on his phone. Right as promised, every hour on the hour, Callie's dad had texted him. Frank flipped through them quickly.

 _She's fine._

 _She's fine._

 _She's still fine._

 _She's fine. I hope you're getting some rest._

He had to smile, knowing that not only Callie was, thank God, still okay, but also that everyone had gone so out of their way to look out for him. He was filled with gratitude. Of course, his dad had checked in several times as well, and he had two voice messages from his mother, who refused to text, always telling him that "polite conversation and a warm voice was better than impersonal tech-y stuff." He had to chuckle as he deleted those messages. He had even received a text from his Aunt Gertrude, who, on the rare occasion she texted anyone, always insisted on signing the text, not believing him when he explained that her number told him who she was. He pushed back the thought that there was one person who had notably NOT texted. _I'll deal with Joe later_.

Arriving at the floor on which Callie's room was located, he ran right into Mr. Shaw.

"Sorry!" Frank apologized. "I was looking at my cell phone. My fault. Thanks again for keeping me up to date with everything," he continued, sincerely.

"Well, someone's looking a lot better!" Mr. Shaw responded with a grin, followed by a yawn.

"No offense, sir, it's not you," Frank teased, starting to feel like his old self.

Surprised, Mr. Shaw stared at him for a second before laughing. "You know, everyone thinks your brother is the wise guy in your family…"

Frank felt a pang again hearing his brother's name. He knew he couldn't let the situation with Joe go on much longer. He just wasn't yet ready to deal with his own behavior towards him, and the fact that, deep down, he still did blame Joe on some level for his carelessness. Callie wasn't out of the woods yet by any stretch, and, even if she were, the fact that she was hurt because of his own failure to slow down and put his priorities in order and Joe's ineptitude would never sit well with him.

"Well, I guess you know the real story," he finally responded. Recognizing the terrible time that the Shaws had gone through as well, he added, "But you really should go home and rest. I'll stay here and I won't leave. I'll even text you every half hour if you want," he joked.

"You know what, Frank? I think I will. Liz is down in the cafeteria. I'll pick her up and we'll be back as soon as possible. Please keep in touch, okay?"

"You got it," Frank agreed.

"Every hour will be acceptable, by the way." Mr. Shaw winked. "Take care of yourself, son."

"I will," Frank agreed. "Thanks… Dad."

Mr. Shaw stopped, tears in his eyes. He reached over and squeezed Frank's shoulder. "Take care of our girl," he added, before waving his hand goodbye and turning away.

"I will," Frank whispered. "I promise".

Arriving in Callie's room, Frank was surprised to see her upright in bed. Mr. Shaw had texted him at one point that Callie had regained consciousness very briefly once or twice during the night, but had quickly succumbed to sleep.

"Hey, Baby," he greeted her. "How are you doing?" He quickly strode to her bedside and kissed her.

"Hey, Handsome," she replied, weakly managing a grin.

"I didn't expect you to be up. It's... it's great," he added, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat again when he saw the sea of injuries with which Callie had to deal. He reached for her and gently took her hand.

"The doctors came in and they want to get me moving as soon as I can. I think they still have some tests to run. It's so surreal," she added. "Can't believe I'm here."

"Thank God," Frank agreed. He pushed a stray piece of golden-blonde hair behind her ear, tenderly.

"I'm so tired," Callie murmured. "I can barely keep my eyes open."

"That's to be expected, Baby. You've been through a lot. How are you feeling otherwise?"

"I'm on a lot of drugs- they help. First time I can say that," she answered, still trying to smile. Seeing Frank's serious expression, filled with complete worry, she decided to be serious. "I'm not great," she answered honestly. "I'm exhausted. Sometimes my head pounds or feels so thick I can't think. It hurts to breathe and to move. And..." Unexpectedly, Callie felt tears sting her eyes and spill onto her cheeks.

"What, Cal? What else?" he asked gently.

"It's so stupid," she choked out, grimacing as a wave of pain from her ribs hit. She wished desperately she could hide the pain, the fear, the weakness, from Frank, but she couldn't. He'd always known her soul.

Releasing his hand, she pointed to her left hand, wrapped in cast. "I don't remember anything, Frank, about the accident. The doctors say I will, maybe, but it's too soon. But… they told me the car was totalled."

Frank nodded, encouraging her to go on.

"I'm missing my ring, Frank. I… don't know where it is, but it's not on my hand."

Frank reached down and stroked her cheek. "Oh, Cal," he sighed. "I know. I understand. Please don't worry. I'll have the police check the car; I'm sure it's there."

"You think so?" she asked, again fighting nausea.

"Yes, I do," Frank asserted. "But if it's not, I'll get you another one."

Callie tried to hide her emotions, but couldn't. She was being illogical and knew it, but everything was so confusing and it was hard to think. Frank's voice brought her back to the present. "Sweetheart, I will get your original ring, okay?"

"Okay," she managed. "There's one other thing."

"Mmmm hmmm," Frank murmured, eyes open, sincere, wanting to hear.

"The piano." She wanted to elaborate, but now all the words were jumbled. She tried unsuccessfully to breathe deeply to calm down- though she had only been conscious for less than a day, and awake for only small intervals, her lack of concentration scared her. How could she not know what to say?

The panic in her eyes caused Frank to think quickly, but he still looked at a loss. "A piano?" he asked again, smoothing her hair. His voice calmed her as it always had.

"The… the car. With the piano." The words were slow coming.

Finally, it dawned on him. "I know what you mean, Baby. It's okay."

On the first year anniversary of them dating, way back in high school, he and Callie had gone to the beach. As the sun was setting, someone had been playing a piano in a restaurant on the boardwalk at the exact moment he had chosen to tell Callie that he had fallen in love with her. It had been a sweet, romantic moment that had really been the start of their long term relationship. That night, he had bought her a piano figure, a small, inexpensive token of that moment. For his sixteen year old self, it had been as serious as a promise ring. Callie had always kept it attached to the rearview mirror of any car she had owned. No matter how old or faded it got, or how many times he had offered to replace it with something of real value, she had always insisted how much it meant to her and that it was perfect as it was.

The fact that, of all the things she could struggle to remember now, THAT was what she was holding onto, made him struggle with tears again. "Callie, I promise to find both your ring and the piano. I will make it happen," he told her, gently.

Weakly, she held up two fingers. "Two more things," she said, and he saw that she was trying to stay awake.

"Sleep, Baby. I'll be right here. It's okay."

"No," she managed.

"What two things?" Frank asked, knowing that she wouldn't rest quite yet. He saw her try to focus and fail, and he ached to take away her pain.

"I talked to dad," she started. "I don't know how much more- how longer- more?"

She looked frightened, and it took all of Frank's effort to try to calm her. "How much _longer,_ Baby. Don't worry about the words. I understand you."

She nodded, trying to reassure herself she wasn't going crazy. She started again. "... _Longer_ I can stay awake. But Joe."

Frank snapped out of his deep concentration for a moment, shocked that Callie was mentioning his brother. He tried to focus again, ignoring the pounding in his heart.

"What about Joe, Cal?" He kept his voice even.

"Not a fault of his. He was just trying to help me. Please don't be mad at him." She met his eyes. It was all he could do now to remain calm.

"Oh, Cal…" he began before he was cut off.

"No, Babe," she continued. "Please. Accident. It... that was…"

"I get it," Frank answered. "I know."

"What's the last thing?" he asked her. Seeing her in so much pain, struggling for words, confused, broke his heart.

"I love you," she whispered.

Frank sat next to her on the bed, and, careful not to move too quickly or to hurt her, gently wrapped his arms around her. It was only moments later that she fell into sleep.

Again, he had missed his chance to tell her how much he loved her. It was too little, too late. He vowed silently that he would spend the rest of his life showing her that love, in words and in action.

Several hours later, Frank felt a buzzing in his pocket. Realizing he had dozed off, his immediate thought was to make sure Callie was okay. She was, sleeping still, breathing evenly, head against his chest. He tightened one arm around her.

His next thought was to send a quick message to Callie's dad that she was okay, as he had promised to do. Before he could send it, he noticed a text from his own dad saying that he had been in touch with Callie's parents, and they knew Callie was still okay. He thanked his dad silently; he hated breaking promises.

About to put his phone away, he realized it was buzzing again. A familiar number came up.

"Van? You okay?" he asked, trying to balance his phone and hold Callie at the same time.

"No... I… Frank, I'm worried," came the shaky voice on the other end of the line.

"What's wrong?" he repeated. Immediately, his "Spidey-sense" was going off.

"It's Joe," she rushed out. "He's missing, Frank! And I'm scared something's happened to him." He could hear Vanessa choking back tears on the other end.

"I'll be right there," Frank responded, and hung up. He felt a chill go through him. Joe was missing? What?! Ignoring his own worry and guilt that he hadn't even checked on his brother in almost two days, Frank carefully released Callie. He kissed her goodbye, though she was sleeping, and went to call his dad.

Praying his brother would be okay, he again felt a sense of dread. When would this nightmare end?


	8. Chapter 8

**Note:** _We hope everyone had a very happy Thanksgiving. Thank you to everyone who has "Favorited" the story. We are also most thankful for those of you who have left reviews since the last chapter, and we appreciate your feedback very much! To that end, thank you FanHB08, max2013, Paulina Ann, Erin Jordan, BMSH, candylou, and Caranath_.

Chapter 8

The Path to Gratitude

Frank knocked at the door of Joe and Vanessa's house, trying to prevent his thoughts from running wild. After calling his dad and telling him to have his mom watch over Callie, he'd assured him that he would be in touch as soon as he could talk to Vanessa and find out what was going on.

Almost the second he knocked, the door flew open and Vanessa, teary-eyed, stood before him, looking completely dejected. He stepped inside the doorway and wordlessly took her in his arms.

"Shhh. It's okay. Calm down," he gently prodded.

Vanessa buried her face in his shoulder and he felt her trembling. She clung to him for several more moments before letting go.

"Come on," Frank said, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen table. "You're strong. Breathe." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Now I need you to tell me exactly what's going on. Start at the beginning and try to be as accurate as possible. You need to tell me what you know so we can get Joe back here. Okay?"

Vanessa took a shaky breath. "He left here hours ago."

"When?" Frank queried, slipping into automatic detective mode as he tried to push his emotion aside. "And why? What did he say?" He tried not to push too hard, but if Joe was missing, time was of the essence.

"I… I guess around noon."

Frank looked at his watch. It was almost 8:00 p.m. Already, this was off to a bad start. "He's been gone 8 hours? When… I mean, how do you know he's 'missing'? What does that mean to you? Please, Van. It's very important that you're as specific as possible."

Vanessa wiped back her tears with a tissue. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Then, finding her voice, knowing she had, desperate, called on Frank, she told him everything. "Oh, Frank," she began, trying to be strong. "He's been going through an awful time lately. He feels so guilty about everything. He… well, he told me today about the calipers and the brakes. He feels completely responsible for the accident."

Frank sucked in a sharp breath. _Focus. You need to focus,_ he mentally chastised himself.

"Yeah. That news came pretty recently," he stated, keeping his voice even.

Vanessa stood, wringing her hands. "I haven't even been able to tell him about Callie waking up. Is she okay? I've just… it's been…"

"She will be. I…" Frank cleared his throat. "She's got a long way to go and she'll need every ounce of strength she has. But… so…" _God, it was hard to focus now. But he had to._

"So Joe didn't know about Callie?" Frank repeated.

"No. I just learned about her this morning right after Joe left, " Vanessa answered.

"So what happened to make you worried?"

Vanessa took a deep breath before continuing. "He told me about the brakes. He's devastated about Callie and he hasn't mentioned you at all."

Frank felt a pain in his stomach. So Joe hadn't even told Vanessa about their fight?

"Okay. Go on."

"He's sick, Frank. I mean it; really sick. He looks awful. I could tell he was in pain with that hacking cough, but he just wouldn't get help. I… I couldn't make him go to the doctor." She wiped back tears again, her own guilt consuming her.

Frank was startled. He'd been so consumed in his own grief and guilt over Callie, his own anger towards Joe, that he'd barely noticed how sick Joe had gotten with that cough. Immediately, his mind flashed to the fight in the hospital. Joe had been coughing; he had looked bad. Frank just hadn't cared in the moment. He felt sick, himself.

"So what happened? What's the last thing he said? Why did he go out?" Frank had a sinking feeling that this wasn't going well.

"He told me about the brakes. He told me how he couldn't remember what he'd done wrong. He broke down, Frank. I think he reached his breaking point. I just held him- what could I say?" Vanessa sniffed. "And then he just kissed me goodbye and told me he had to get away for a while to clear his head. To talk. But he didn't say where or to whom or anything. And he's not answering my calls or texts. He always answers me. And he's been gone a really long time. I'm worried."

Frank stood, ran a hand unconsciously through his dark hair, and leaned his head against the wall. The fact that Joe hadn't answered Vanessa's calls was bad- really bad.

But he wasn't worried about where Joe had gone. It was where Joe always went to "clear his head; to talk." He'd heard those exact words a hundred times in the last 7 years.

"I'll get him. Just be available, okay? I'll call you as soon as I can." He picked up his keys.

"Wha- where are you going?" Vanessa asked, shocked.

Frank shook his head. This was Joe's secret to tell, not his. "I'll get him," he repeated. Leaning over, he gave Vanessa a quick peck on the cheek.

And then he left Joe's current love standing there with her mouth open. And he headed for Joe's former one, praying he would find his brother taking solace in her presence, and completely fine.

He doubted it.

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 _Iola, help him,_ he muttered. _Please._

Frank drove as fast as he dared to the Bayport Cemetery. He took the dark, winding path to the rear of the grounds, finding Joe's car parked in front of the Morton's mausoleum. He shut off the car and got out. Taking a moment to collect himself, Frank walked through the entrance and found his brother seated on the cold, hard ground, staring at the marble stone bearing Iola's name,

Joe looked awful, whether from illness, the stress of Callie's accident and his role in it, or both, Frank didn't know.

"Callie's awake," Frank said.

Joe's head spun around; he was obviously shocked to see Frank. Frank couldn't even fathom how sick Joe had to be if he hadn't even heard Frank drive up and walk in.

Joe gave him a tiny smile. "That's great."

"You didn't know?" Vanessa had already told him that Joe left before she could let him know that Callie had awakened, but he thought maybe someone else had called - his mom or dad - someone, anyone… ' _I should have told him.'_

Frank felt guilty for a moment. His emotions were still on a razor's edge and he hadn't wanted to lash out at Joe again, so he had been purposefully avoiding his brother. Apparently everyone else had, too.

Joe shook his head, coughed harshly. "Vanessa and I have been like ships passing in the night lately." Joe stopped and his voice changed slightly. "I haven't really talked to anyone else."

' _He means everyone has been ignoring him.'_ Frank felt badly. He loved his brother, he really did, but this was all too much to deal with right now. "She's still got a long recovery ahead of her but… she'll be okay. Eventually."

"Good," was all Joe could manage. An awkward silence filled the space and then Joe took a breath, started to speak, and immediately devolved into a violent coughing spasm. It lasted several minutes, with Joe doubled over, at one point clutching his side painfully.

"Come on. Let's get you to the hospital." Frank stood and waited for the inevitable - Joe would say he was fine, didn't need a hospital, and just wanted to go home.

"Okay," Joe replied meekly.

Frank was stunned; and worried. That said more than anything about how sick Joe was. He watched Joe try to push himself up, make it halfway, then gasp and grab his side again. Frank grabbed Joe's arm, halting his fall back to the ground. Gently, he helped Joe stand. "Come on. I've got you."

Joe didn't argue. He walked next to Frank in silence, stopping only at the door to the mausoleum where he turned around and gazed one last time at Iola's name. Frank saw his lips move, but whatever he said was for Iola alone.

When they got outside, Joe headed for his own car. Frank gently tugged him to a stop. "Yeah, I don't think so."

"I can drive myself, Frank."

"That's not going to happen." Frank made sure his intentions were clear. No way was he letting Joe get behind the wheel. The last thing any of them needed was for Joe to get into an accident because he had a coughing spasm while he was driving. "Not even open for discussion. I'm driving you to the hospital." He held up his hand, palm out, before Joe could even open his mouth to protest. "Dad and I will come back for your car. We'll drop it at your place."

Frank pulled open the passenger side door of his car. "Get in."

Joe complied, sinking into the seat, and leaned back, closing his eyes.

A very loud silence filled the car for the entire drive. Frank snuck a few glances at Joe on the way. He could hear Joe's raspy breathing, could tell how difficult it was for him to take more than a very shallow breath. He also noted Joe kept one arm against his side protectively.

When they arrived at the hospital emergency room, Joe was quickly whisked back to a room while Frank hung back in the waiting area. Emotions roiled inside him. Finally, he called Vanessa, told her he had found Joe and brought him to the ER, and asked her to come over right away. He then called his dad, quickly explained the situation, and said he was coming over to pick him up so they could retrieve Joe's car. With a glance at the double doors where Joe had gone, Frank left the hospital. Vanessa would be arriving soon; Joe was in good hands and Frank needed more time to come to grips with the wildly mixed emotions he still had for his brother.

Joe sat on the slightly reclined gurney in the small curtained room. Despite knowing he had no right to be, he was hurt that Frank hadn't come back with him. He knew without a doubt Frank had left. ' _Can't blame him for that. You almost killed his fiancee.'_

Joe had been briefly seen by a doctor, taken for x-rays, had blood drawn, and was now waiting for the results of all the tests. He'd been here so long he'd drifted off to sleep more than once. Finally the curtain swished aside and the doctor, who didn't look much older than Joe himself, stepped into the room carrying a large envelope.

"Your x-rays," he said, pulling the large films out and clipping them into a large box on the wall. He flipped a switch and the box lit up. Then he turned and looked at Joe reproachfully. "How long have you been ignoring the coughing?"

Joe glanced away. "Not long."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. You do know that violent coughing spasms that last upwards of ten minutes are more than just a cold, right?" He eyed Joe up and down. "How much weight have you lost?"

Joe flinched. "I don't know. A little. Maybe."

"And how about the fatigue," the doctor continued. "The loss of appetite. How long has that been going on?"

Joe frowned. How did he know about that? No one had asked and he hadn't volunteered that information.

The doctor sighed. "You have pneumonia."

"What?!" Joe was shocked. A bad chest cold maybe, some weird strain of the flu, but _pneumonia_? That hadn't even been on Joe's radar.

"A classic case. A very bad classic case since you've been ignoring all the signs for so long. The violent coughing spasms, lack of appetite, weight loss, extreme fatigue. I'm guessing you've also had chills and or a low grade fever off and on, too." He stepped closer to the box and pointed. "Your lungs should not look like that. They should be nice and clear." He then pointed a little more to the right. Joe instinctively wrapped an arm around his side. "And, just for good measure, you have a hairline fracture of the rib. That can happen when you cough so violently for so long, thinking it'll just go away on its own." The doctor flipped off the light and crossed his arms over his chest. "Frankly, I don't know how you're still upright."

' _Me neither,'_ Joe thought silently.

"You should be admitted, but I can't do that without your consent."

"That's not gonna happen," Joe muttered.

He sighed resignedly. He'd already had Joe pegged. "Well, I can't force you, but make no mistake. If you don't go home and rest, I can guarantee you will be spending your Thanksgiving here as our guest. And I mean complete bed rest, for at least a week. Probably more."

Joe didn't want to admit it out loud, but right now that sounded like heaven. "Okay, okay, I get it."

"Good." The doctor walked to the small counter that served as a desk and started writing on the chart. "What do you do?"

"Huh?" Joe asked, wondering if confusion was another symptom of pneumonia.

"Your job. What do you do?"

"Oh, private investigator."

The man looked up, arched one eyebrow. "Is that a sedentary job?"

"Not so much."

The man made a noise. "No work for at least a week, more likely two. When you do go back, only part time and only desk work. Do you need a note for your employer?"

Joe shook his head. "No, I work for my dad."

The doctor stopped and stared. "I can't legally talk to him without your permission, but I'd like to. You don't strike me as the sedentary type. I'd really like him to know what your limitations need to be until you are recovered. _Fully_ recovered. If you don't allow yourself to fully recover, it will come back, no matter how good you think you feel."

This guy really did have Joe pegged. He knew Joe would gloss over what he could and couldn't do and would likely try to go back to work too soon. Truth be told, right now Joe was too tired, too sick, and in too much pain to care. "Yeah, sure, give him a call." He provided Fenton's cell phone number and decided he didn't want to be anywhere near his father when he got that phone call.

"Do you live alone?"

"No, with my girlfriend."

"Would you like me to call her, too? Let her know what restrictions you have?"

Joe snorted. "No, I'm sure my Dad will be happy to fill her in on anything I miss."

"You need to take this seriously. I should not be letting you walk out of here. The only reason you are is because I can't legally keep you here."

Joe just stared. No way in hell was he staying. He could rest more comfortably at home, in his own bed, than he could here where they'd only be waking him up, poking and prodding every few hours.

The man sighed, defeated. "Look, you're obviously in great shape. You're young and healthy. But pneumonia is nothing to mess around with. If you don't do exactly what I'm telling you, you will be back here and very soon."

Joe slid off the gurney. "I get it. Really, I do." He reached for his jacket, stopped suddenly and hissed in pain.

"That cracked rib will help to remind you." The doctor said gently. "The more you rest, the quicker your lungs will clear up, the less you'll cough and the sooner that will heal." He pulled a pad out of his pocket, scribbled something on the top sheet, tore it off and handed it to Joe. "Take that prescription, all of it, until it's gone. Don't skip doses and don't forget to take it." He reached out to shake Joe's hand. "I don't want to see you back here."

Joe took the paper and stuck it in his pocket. "Don't worry, I don't want to be seen back here."

"Good. I'll call your dad. Have a Happy Thanksgiving."

Joe smiled, grateful for the doctor's help and candor. "Thanks. You too."


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** _Thank you to everyone who has ben so gracious to "Follow" this story and to leave a review. It is truly wonderful to log on and to see people's thoughts. Since the last chapter, we would like to thank the following people for their reviews: shee1, Constitution Chic, Wendylouwho10, SunshineGirl99, BMSH, Paulina Ann, Caranath, EvergreenDreamweaver, ErinJordan, max2013, and Candylou._

 _Thanks to those of you who raised some concerns, so just to clarify: Frank DID leave Joe at the emergency room, simply because he had called Vanessa and knew that she would be arriving shortly. He knew Joe was safe, but is having a hard time reconciling his out of control emotions and knows he wouldn't trust himself to say the right thing to his brother. Vanessa is waiting for Joe and will take him home as soon as he leaves the doctor. As for wait times, hey- it's Hardy-land. :) The doctors probably recognized Joe and told him to get inside right away as he's a frequent visitor. ;)_

The Path to Gratitude

Chapter 9

Frank pushed back from his desk and stretched. He'd buried himself in work for the past few days. Normally he wasn't one to ignore a problem, but between almost losing Callie and knowing Joe was the cause… it was just easier to focus on work than deal with his roiling emotions. Callie was out of the woods, but she still had a long way to go. She was in a lot of pain and it just about killed him to see her like that, knowing he could do nothing but offer moral support. He felt helpless and angry and that anger led him back to his brother. At least with Joe ordered to stay home and rest Frank didn't have to face him; he could put off dealing with the situation a little while longer.

His desk phone buzzed and Frank was grateful for the interruption from his father's long- time secretary. She had run Fenton's office for as long as Frank could remember. "Yes, Mrs. Anders?"

"Frank, there's someone here looking for Joe. Can you speak with him?"

"Sure, send him back."

A moment later, there was a young man about his age standing in the open doorway. "Oh, hi Luke." Frank got up and crossed the office, hand extended. Luke owned a garage in town and he and Joe had bonded over their shared love of cars. "Nice to see you. Sorry Joe isn't here. He's down for the count with pneumonia this week."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry to hear that."

Frank perched on the edge of his desk and gestured to one of the comfortable looking chairs facing it. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Luke took a seat. "Joe came by the shop last week. He said he was checking the brakes on someone's car. He wasn't exactly sure what the problem was and wanted to stock up on whatever parts he might need. He got some rotors and pads and also bought some bolts."

Frank suddenly felt uneasy. "Uh-huh, go on."

"I just got a notice from the company who manufactures the bolts. They're doing a massive recall on that lot number. There was some kind of defect with the steel. The tensile strength was compromised in the manufacturing process. The vibration of the wheels have caused the bolts to snap and the entire caliper falls off. Apparently, it's lead to quite a few crashes. A few people have been seriously hurt."

Frank felt the blood drain from his face.

"I just wanted to let him know not to use those bolts. The manufacturer wants all of them returned…" Luke's voice trailed off for a moment. "Frank? Are you okay?"

Frank stared, unable to speak. ' _Recall? The bolts have been recalled?'_

Realization seemed to have dawned on Luke. "Oh no. Did he use the bolts on someone's car?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "My fiancée."

"Was she… Did she…" Luke stumbled over the words.

"She's in the hospital."

"I'm sorry. Is she going to be okay?"

"We weren't sure for the first few days, and she's still got a ways to go, but yeah- she'll be okay."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that." Luke stood, hand extended. "Have Joe give me a call when he's feeling better."

Frank shook his hand. "Yeah. Thanks for coming by." As he watched Luke disappear into the hall Frank sank down into the chair heavily. He gripped the armrests tightly.

' _It wasn't Joe's fault.'_ That moment in the hospital when he came so close to hitting his brother in blind anger flashed across his mind. The words he'd hurled at Joe tumbled through his mind. ' _Oh God, what have I done?'_

Frank walked down the hall towards his father's office. His mind was spinning, but at the same time he felt numb, disbelieving. Confused. The door to Fenton's office was closed and Frank could hear the low murmur of his father's voice. He didn't knock, simply opened the door and walked in. Fenton was talking on the phone. He had turned when Frank opened the door, a look of surprise on his face that quickly turned to concern.

"May I call you back in a little while? Something's just come up." Fenton appeared to be waiting for a reply as he stood up. "Yes, thank you. Goodbye." He put the phone down and rushed around the desk. "Frank, what is it? What's happened? It's not Callie, is it?"

"Joe," Frank said.

"Joe?" Fenton repeated, confused. "Is Joe alright? He's supposed to be home resting." Fenton took Frank's arm and gently guided him to the sofa.

"It wasn't… he didn't," Frank stopped, took a deep breath and gathered himself. He looked his father directly in the eye. "It wasn't Joe's fault."

"What? I'm not sure I understand."

"Callie's accident. It wasn't Joe's fault." Frank started to shake. "Dad, he didn't do anything wrong."

"But Collig said the investigation confirmed it was the brakes. The calipers fell off. Joe admitted he changed the caliper bolts. If it wasn't his fault then how-"

"I just talked to Joe's friend, Luke Malone."

"The one who owns the garage in town?" Fenton still looked confused. "What does he have to do with Callie's accident? Joe fixed her car at home, didn't he?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah, he did. Luke came by to see him just a few minutes ago. Since Joe is out, Mrs. Anders asked me if I would talk to Luke." Frank stopped again. "Dad, he didn't do it. We all blamed him. _I_ blamed him and he didn't do anything wrong." Frank knew he wasn't making much sense, but he just couldn't seem to gather his thoughts into any kind of coherence.

Fenton reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Okay, Son. Take a deep breath and start from the beginning."

Frank closed his eyes and sank back into the couch cushion. He took a breath and then another, calling on his martial arts training to calm his mind. When he felt steadier, he looked at his father and began to explain. "Luke just stopped by here. He was looking for Joe. When Joe knew he was going to work on Callie's car, he apparently went to Luke's shop and bought the parts he thought he'd need, including a bulk quantity of bolts." He stopped and stared hard at his father. "Bolts that he used on the brake calipers."

Frank could see comprehension dawning in his father's eyes. Fenton was connecting the dots faster than Frank could explain but he remained silent. No more assumptions; he obviously wanted all the facts this time before he said a word.

"Luke asked me to tell Joe not to use the bolts on anyone's car. That lot has been recalled by the manufacturer. Something to do with a defect in the processing at the plant and the tensile strength of the steel. Dad, the bolts are not as strong as they're supposed to be. Luke said if used on the calipers, those bolts will break and snap off from the vibrations of the car. There have been multiple accidents reported, some with serious injuries."

"Like Callie's."

"Yeah, like Callie's. Dad… it wasn't Joe's fault. He did everything right; he tried to tell us, but nobody listened. We all just assumed that since the calipers fell off Joe must have screwed up. None of us bothered to wait until they actually found the bolts." Frank watched the color change on his father's face. He was just as sick about it as Frank was.

"Does anyone else know yet?" Fenton asked. "Does Joe know?"

Frank shook his head. "No. Collig said he'd call if or when they found the bolts. I haven't heard from him. Have you?"

"No." Fenton stood up, began pacing a small path in front of the sofa. "He needs to know. Joe needs to know."

"Dad… can you tell him?"

Fenton stopped, mid-pace. "Don't you want to be the one to tell him?"

Frank looked down at his hands. "I – I don't know if I can. I said some horrible things to him. I almost… I almost hit him." He looked up at his father. "I was so angry and hurt and we still didn't know if Callie was going to make it. I just wanted him to hurt, too."

"He _was_ hurting, Frank. Believe me, he was. Still is." Fenton sat down again, next to Frank. "Given all that, it's probably best that he learns the truth from you."

Fenton held the small piece of paper in one hand as he dialed with the other and waited for an answer. "Yes, Fenton Hardy calling for Chief Collig. Yes, I'll hold, thank you."

Fenton was on hold for less than a minute before his friend picked up. "Fenton, hello. What's going on?" Collig was direct and to the point, as usual.

"Ezra, I have some news about Callie's accident."

"Has she remembered something?"

"No, no, not from Callie. It's from Luke Malone. He's a friend of Joe's."

"Go on." Ezra sounded intrigued.

"Luke owns a garage in downtown Bayport."

"Yes, I'm familiar with it. Hard working young man. Edith and I use his shop for all our car maintenance."

"Yes, well, he and Joe are good friends. Whenever Joe needs parts for a car, Luke orders them for him at cost. Joe went to Luke to get the parts for Callie's car." Fenton waited a beat and when Ezra was silent, he continued. "Luke came by the office today to see Joe. I'm not sure if you're aware, but Joe has a pretty bad case of pneumonia. He's home for the next two weeks, doctor-ordered bed rest."

He heard a soft chuckle. "Good luck with that."

"Yeah, don't I know it. For better or worse, right now he's so sick he's more than happy to stay home and rest. But about Luke," Fenton steered the conversation back where he wanted it. "Since Joe isn't here, he spoke with Frank. Joe had gone to Luke's place to buy the parts to fix Callie's car – including a bag of caliper bolts. Apparently, Luke has just been notified by the manufacturer that all those bolts are being recalled. They're defective. Something to do with the tensile strength being compromised during the manufacturing process. The bolts snap and fall apart from the vibrations of the car – "

"Causing the calipers to fall off," Collig finished, his voice grim.

"Exactly. The company wants all of the bolts returned to them. There have been several accidents, some with serious injuries."

"Like Callie's."

"Just like Callie's."

"Do you have Luke's phone number?" Ezra asked. "I want to call him. We'll probably want him to come and give a statement about the bolts and what he was told by the manufacturer."

Fenton provided him with the information from the small Post It note he written it down on.

"Does Joe know yet?"

"Not yet," Fenton replied.

"I'm sure it will be a great weight lifted when he finds out."

Fenton smiled. Collig would never admit it, but he always had a soft spot for Joe. Fenton guessed it was because Joe may have reminded Collig of himself when he was much younger. "Yes, I'm sure it will be."

"Thanks for calling, Fenton." Collig stopped for a moment and then continued, his voice softer. "I'm very glad to know Callie's accident wasn't Joe's fault."

"Thanks, Ezra. Me, too."

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Frank pulled into the driveway of Joe and Vanessa's rented house and turned off the car. He sat for several minutes listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, hoping for inspiration. He had no idea what he was going to say to Joe. He had said some pretty awful things to his brother when he believed Callie might die and Joe was the cause. And he'd believed them. Still worse was that Joe had believed them, too. Frank had no idea how to repair that kind of damage. It didn't help that his emotions still hadn't caught up with news that Joe was blameless.

He opened the car door and got out, walking slowly to the front door. He hesitated momentarily, then knocked softly. Maybe they wouldn't answer and he could put this off a little longer. But the door suddenly opened and Vanessa was standing there looking at him, puzzled.

"Hi Frank." She pulled the door open a little more and stepped to the side, a silent invitation to come in.

"Thanks," he said quietly, walking into the house.

She closed the door behind him and crossed her arms. "So what brings you here?" she asked, guarded. There was a little chill between them and Frank knew it was his doing. Since dropping Joe at the hospital earlier in the week and calling Vanessa to let her know, he hadn't spoken with either of them. He hadn't called to see how Joe was doing or update either of them on Callie's recovery. He knew his mother was here just about every day; if there was any news that needed to be relayed, Frank knew she would take care of it. After all that had happened, he still couldn't face his brother.

"Luke Malone came by the office today. To see Joe."

"Mm-hmm." Vanessa nodded.

Best not to draw this out any longer than necessary. He wanted to get it over and done with. "He, uh, he said the bolts Joe used on Callie's car have been recalled. Manufacturer's defect." Before he could explain any further Vanessa interrupted.

"So it wasn't Joe's fault. He didn't do anything wrong." Relief visibly washed over her. Her voice faltered. "He said he was sure he did everything right."

"Yeah, he did."

"And he was right."

"He was. There was some kind of problem with the manufacturing process. The tensile strength in the bolts just wasn't there. Vibrations from driving the car caused them to snap and the calipers just… fell off."

Vanessa stared at him as the awkward silence stretched out between them. Anger flashed in her eyes. "Well, thanks for telling me, but don't you think you should tell _him_?"

Frank remained silent. ' _Of course I should tell him. I just don't think I can face him yet.'_

Just as quickly as the anger came, it was gone. "Frank, this is killing him." She took a step forward, put a hand on his arm. "I get it, I really do. You thought Callie was going to die and everything pointed to Joe as the reason why. But now you know it wasn't his fault. You have to tell him. It _has_ to come from you."

"Don't bother, Van." The sound of Joe's voice, coming from the top of the stairs, cut right through Frank. It was hoarse and raspy, edged with anger and pain.

Frank turned and looked up. Despite the physician ordered bed rest, Joe didn't look much better than he had when Frank found him at the cemetery a few days earlier.

"He didn't come to see me."Joe was staring at Frank, but speaking to Vanessa. "He wanted to tell you and have you tell me. So he wouldn't have to."

Most of the time Frank was grateful that he and his brother could read each other so well; this was not one of those times. Joe had known exactly what Frank was hoping for. He wasn't ready to face Joe. It wasn't that he was still angry at his brother, or still believed that somehow, Joe was responsible. He just didn't know that to do with the anger that hadn't yet caught up with reality.

"Joe. That's not true," Frank lied, hoping to salvage the situation. "I - I know you're supposed to be resting. I assumed you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

"What, you thought this wasn't important enough to wake me up?" Joe was hurt and very, very angry. Frank couldn't blame him.

"No. Yes. I mean -"

"What you mean is you didn't want to face me." Joe took a step back. "Well don't worry about it. You don't have to." He turned and disappeared down the hall.

Frank closed his eyes and leaned his head back. ' _Nice job, you idiot.'_ He was surprised when Vanessa squeezed his arm.

"Between the pneumonia, the exhaustion, thinking he might have somehow been responsible for Callie's accident… It's like he couldn't stand to be in his own skin." She shrugged and gave him a sad smile.

Frank looked at her, so grateful she was here for Joe. "I don't blame him Vanessa, I really don't. I just…" His voice trailed off. How could he explain something he didn't quite understand himself?"

"I know you don't. And deep down, he knows it too. He'll come around, Frank. Just give him a little time."

He reached out and hugged her tightly. "Thank you. I'm so glad he has you."

"Yeah, me too." She stepped back and gave him a genuine smile. "Thanks for coming by, to tell him… me… _us_ , in person."

Frank nodded and reached for the door.

"Hey, keep me updated on Callie, okay?"

"Yeah, I will… Thanks again, Vanessa." He glanced up the stairs. "Take care of him."

Vanessa nodded and squeezed his shoulder.

As he walked out of the house and back to his car, Frank knew he and Joe still had a way to go but maybe, finally, things were starting to look up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:** _Well, this is it! We thank all of you who have been so kind to leave reviews, as we have enjoyed reading every one. Next week, we shall post "Christmas Wishes," a very short, five chapter story that follows this one. For the time being, that will be it, as we have no other stories currently completed. Thank you for your feedback and support! Since the last chapter, thank you to Constitution Chic, Ashley 10, Shee1, EvergreenDreamweaver, BMSH, Paulina Ann, SunshineGirl 99, Erin Jordan, max 2013, Candylou, and Caranath. Thank you to everyone who stopped by along the way to comment on the majority of the chapters and those of you who commented even once. It is always comforting for authors to know that people are reading and enjoying the work. Hope you all enjoy the holiday season! :) Cheryl and Alaina_

The Path to Gratitude

Chapter 10

The sound of laughter could be heard coming from the Hardy household as Joe and Vanessa pulled up to the driveway, already overcrowded with cars.

"Your mom wasn't playing when she said that there would be a lot of people this year," Vanessa quipped as she opened the door and got out of the car. She reached into the backseat and pulled out two bags filled with chips, dip, and numerous other appetizers to be heated up.

"I think we all have a lot to be grateful for this year," Joe replied with a small smile, trying to suppress his cough. Although he felt much better than he had even a short week ago, he was still far from his best. He wasn't planning on letting it ruin his day, though. He walked over to Vanessa, gave her a quick kiss, and quickly took the bags from her.

"You okay, Babe?" Vanessa asked, concerned. She knew- they ALL knew- that Joe and Frank had barely spoken since the information had come out about the defective part and Joe's complete innocence in Callie's accident. In fact, today was going to be the first day that everyone was going to be together, and she knew that Joe was a nervous wreck about it. She hated to see him like that, especially since he'd been through so much and since the holiday season was Joe's absolute favorite time of the year.

"No worries," Joe answered with a wink. "It's football time! How could anything go wrong? Unless the Eagles lose. They have a habit of managing to do that a lot."

Despite herself, Vanessa laughed. Only Joe could joke so well when he was uncomfortable.

"That's true," she answered. "You have to give them credit, though. They're always creative about how they do it… and they're pretty consistent. Good thing the Giants are going to kick their butts this year- again!"

"I can't believe my girlfriend is on the opposite team," Joe playfully griped. "Why are we together again?"

"Oh, I don't know," Vanessa responded, and quickly stepped in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. "I've heard there are a few benefits."

"Yes, indeed," Joe answered tenderly, hugging Vanessa back despite the bags in his arms.

"I guess we better go in," Vanessa replied after a few well spent moments.

"Sure. Let's go. The pregame show is just starting."

Vanessa smiled sadly. Despite Joe's levity, she knew what he was thinking. How on earth was he going to manage to avoid his brother? And, even if he could, how long could this go on?

Walking into the house, Vanessa and Joe were immediately greeted by the many people who had already arrived early. The commotion felt good to Joe. He walked into the kitchen to drop off the bags.

"Hey, Mom," Joe said, placing the bags on the kitchen island. He gave Laura a quick kiss on the cheek and reached down to grab two of the mini-hotdog hors devours.

"Hi, Honey," Laura replied. She gave Joe a hug, her hand resting on his cheek, a slight frown on her face. "You're still pale. How are you feeling?"

"About the same as when you asked yesterday," Joe winked. Ever since Joe had been relegated to bed rest, she had stopped by the house to check on him, make sure he was eating, getting enough fluids, doing nothing more strenuous than moving from the bed to the couch, and she would generally hover for an hour or so. When she couldn't stop by, she called either Joe or Vanessa for a report. It was her right as his mother, she had told him.

"Don't make fun of your mother," Laura admonished, kissing him on the cheek. She turned to the bags Joe had put down and started unpacking them. "Where's Vanessa?"

"Oh, she got swept up in the crowd of people. I think Biff's girlfriend got her. What's her name again?"

"Joe!" Laura chastised him. Teasing, she went on. "Are you implying that your good friend Biff Hooper has a different girl every year?"

"More like every week," Joe answered with a laugh, and grabbed another hors devours.

"That's not nice," Laura replied, but she couldn't help smiling.

"Listen, Ma, you're the one who puts "Plus One" on the invitation, not me. You're not so innocent!" Joe shrugged his shoulders. "What do you expect from me with such a poor role model?"

Playfully, Laura swatted Joe's shoulder. She looked affectionately at her youngest son, who always made her smile no matter how much he was going through. To that end, she added, "Listen. I always appreciate your company, Joey. But why aren't you in the other room with the guys starting the day long fight about football, or at least planning when you're going to play your own annual game? Although I know you may be out for the game this year. I'm sorry, Honey."

Joe sighed and looked hopefully at his mom. "Um... I'm hungry?"

"Well, THAT I would always believe about you, but you know it's not the truth this time." She met her son's eyes. "Your brother is in the backyard. He's been out there since he came. I think he's trying to allow you the time to bond with everyone inside. I think he's lonely." Laura reached out to her son. "Honey, you only have one brother. And it's Thanksgiving."

Joe couldn't meet his mother's eyes. "Where's Callie? Did she come?" he asked, avoiding the topic.

Laura shook her head slowly and smiled. "Would Frank come to Thanksgiving without Callie?" she answered with a question.

"I… I don't know. I haven't really spoken to her. It's been… you know…" He broke off.

"I know. She's only been out of the hospital for two days, and she's resting in Frank's old bedroom until later when everyone arrives. The noise is a lot for her, and she's exhausted and in pain. But you know Callie- she doesn't complain. Thank God she's here," Laura found her voice breaking a bit.

"I know," Joe answered. "I...maybe I'll go say hi."

"Do that," Laura answered, and Joe turned slowly around and left the kitchen. Staring after him, Laura thought, _It's a start._

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Joe ascended the stairs, refusing to allow himself much time to think. He'd always been better without a plan, anyway. Still, he couldn't help but to be a little nervous about seeing Callie. He hadn't visited with her in the hospital, primarily because he'd been avoiding his brother. However, he'd felt guilty about that. His father had told him that the Shaws had been incredibly graceful and forgiving, even when everyone thought he had been guilty of negligence with the brakes. For that, he would be eternally grateful. In their place, he didn't know if he would have acted the same.

That thought struck him. Would… would he have acted like his brother did if the situation was reversed? It never would have occurred to him before. He didn't THINK he would have- he would always have Frank's back, no matter what. But… still…

Pushing the disturbing thought to the back of his mind, he knocked on the door. In the background, he was fairly certain he heard "Come in."

Opening the door a crack, he peaked in. He saw Callie sitting up on an old chair in Frank's room. When she saw him, she stood up very slowly and smiled, waving him in.

"Well, hey, stranger," she uttered.

It took Joe a moment to take it in- Callie standing in front of him, a cast wrapped on her arm. Despite a large bandage covering her right temple, she looked completely normal. But, in the next instant, he saw it. She was dressed in a long sleeve turtleneck, leggings, and boots, a purposeful outfit, he saw at once, to cover her many cuts and bruises. She was very pale, and thinner than normal, noticeable on her already petite frame. Despite it all, though, she was smiling. She was beautiful, even now. And she was, thankfully, very much alive.

"Do I look that bad?" Callie joked.

Realizing he had been staring, and also feeling much more comfortable than he had thought he would, he walked across the room. "Can I give you a hug?" he asked.

Callie stepped into his outstretched arms, her own arms crossed to protect her wrist, and, he realized at once, her ribs. The one rib with a hairline fracture he had was painful; he couldn't even imagine what pain Callie must be in. Didn't she have 4 or 5 ribs broken?! Gently, he hugged her to him, kissing the top of her head quickly. Then, keeping his arm around her, he helped her to sit back down.

"Broken ribs suck." It was the first thing he thought to say.

Callie laughed and instantly regretted it. "Don't make me laugh, Joe," she said. "It hurts." He saw the twinkle in her eyes despite her grimace.

"I'm glad you're okay," he replied. It was the understatement of the century, and it said nothing of the emotional turmoil still wreaking havoc with his family.

Callie reached for his hand, and he held it. She got it. He knew she got it, and was grateful beyond words for her support. Even through the worst of it all, she was the one person, he had heard from his dad, who had never blamed him. And she was the one person who would have had every right to.

"Joe, I have a favor to ask of you," she began, still holding his hand. Shocked, he met her eyes.

"A favor?" he asked. "Of course. Anything." He paused, unable to help himself. "Well, I mean, other than working on your brakes."

Callie smiled feebly, and he felt her tense, saw the very real pain she was in. "I told you not to make me laugh." He watched as she fought to hide her emotions.

"Callie," he said, earnestly, concerned. "You're not doing so good, huh?"

"I'm fine," she replied, dismissing him quickly. She stood up weakly, breath still shallow. "I really need that favor, though."

"You got it," he answered, trying to give Callie space if that's what she needed.

"Frank says that," she said softly. "You got it."

Joe shifted, uncomfortable. "What can I do for you, Callie?"

"Joe," she started, and he saw how hard it was for her to concentrate. How had he missed that? She really was struggling for something very important. How bad _was_ she? She must be on a ton of pain medication on top of everything. It bothered him, suddenly, how much he didn't know, but he tried to dismiss his fear. If she wanted his attention, she had it.

"I… I just… I'm sad," she managed, and again she startled him.

"Go ahead." He wanted to help her and didn't know how.

When she began again, he noticed the most subtle slur of her words, the tears in her eyes. "I'm just gonna say it," she said, slowly. "I know what happened with you and Frank. He was wrong, Joe. We both know he was wrong, but _he_ knows he was wrong. He feels awful."

Joe just nodded. He owed Callie her say at the very least. He watched as she shakily wiped at her eyes, and he felt terrible. "I say want…" She stopped and started again, not meeting his eyes, frustrated. Again, he wondered just how much Callie was dealing with… and therefore how much his brother was dealing with, too.

"I want to say," she started again, "just this. I love your brother. He messed up, and excuses… I'm not making…." He watched as she struggled for words. "Please, Joe. Forgive him. I know he hurt you, and I'm so sorry. He was overwhelmed and… and.. .scared and angry. But please. Forgive him. Try."

Joe took a deep breath. Again, he walked to Callie and gently held her for a moment. "He did okay with you, you know that, Shaw?" Stepping back from her, he saw the hope in her eyes and it killed him. "I'll talk to him."

"Thanks so much, Joe," she replied softly, smiling despite the tears in her eyes.

"Only for you, Sis," he replied, and exited the room. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. This was NOT going to be easy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe walked back through the kitchen, stopping long enough to give his mother a shaky smile, and pushed open the back door. He stepped out onto the large deck and stopped. Frank was standing on the far side, leaning against the rail, his back to Joe.

Joe stood for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Frank hadn't turned around but he had no doubt Frank knew he was there and was allowing Joe the time to come to him. Frank was too good a detective to not realize he was no longer alone, even if he hadn't heard the door shut.

Joe slowly walked towards his brother and stopped next to him. He also leaned against the rail and looked out over the vast expanse of his parents' backyard. He wasn't prepared for the sudden onslaught of memories. The ghosts of two little boys running, playing, and laughing almost overwhelmed him.

Frank turned to him, gave a tentative smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Joe replied.

"You look better than the last time I saw you."

Neither one of them mentioned that was the night Frank had found him at the cemetery. "Thanks. I'm finally starting to feel better."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that." Frank tipped the beer bottle he was holding towards Joe. "Want one? They're in the cooler right over there." He gestured to a spot near the back door.

Joe thought a beer - or three - might help this conversation go down a little easier, but he was going to have to do this without any 'help'. He shook his head at his brother. "I'd love one, believe me, but I'm flagged until I finish the medication."

"Ah, right." Frank turned back to look at the trees that lined the far end of the yard and Joe followed his gaze. Summer had hung on a lot longer than normal this year. As a result, the leaves were at the height of changing, all of them exploding in a riot of red, orange, and gold. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Remember when we were kids and Dad would make us come out here and help him rake leaves?" Joe said suddenly.

Frank smiled. "I remember Dad and I raking a lot of leaves and you jumping into the piles and scattering them all over the yard again."

"Well what did he expect? I was barely tall enough to hold a rake." Joe laughed but began coughing soon after.

Automatically, Frank reached out and patted his back gently. It felt good; it felt… normal. Joe had missed normal the last few weeks. "Doesn't sound nearly as bad," Frank said softly, removing his hand. Joe, always very tactile and demonstrative, missed the contact almost immediately.

Before Joe could really gather his thoughts, figure out how to start this conversation, Frank was speaking again.

"I'm sorry, Joe. For the things I said. For the things I did – almost did."

Joe could still see his brother's hand, curled into a fist. At the time, Joe thought he deserved it and then some. Still, once it became clear that Callie's accident was due to a defective part, almost all the people who had been so quick to blame him were deafeningly quiet. No one moreso than Frank. And that hurt.

"There was some evidence that seemed to point to you. But instead of waiting until all the evidence was in, like we do in every single investigation, we… I… just assumed it was your fault."

Despite how much it hurt, Frank was trying now and Joe missed his brother. He needed to at least try to meet Frank halfway.

"We all did, Frank. Hell, even I thought it was my fault. I mean, I thought I had done everything right - "

"You did."

Joe shrugged. "The evidence said otherwise. I just assumed it was right, too."

Frank studied the beer bottle in his hands and shook his head. "That's too easy, Joe. And it's not fair. I give criminals the benefit of the doubt until every scrap of evidence is in. But I couldn't do the same for my own brother. Worse than that, once I did know the truth, I still didn't call you." He turned and looked at Joe. "I don't have any excuse for that. I just… I don't know."

Joe knew and he couldn't let his brother suffer the way he had after Iola died. "In your head you knew it wasn't my fault but in your heart…" Joe gestured with his hand, trying to find the right words. "For days you thought Callie might die. And then you found out what everyone – including me – thought, that there was concrete proof that it was my fault. You were a wreck. And even when you realized Callie would recover, that terror of almost losing her doesn't just go away. And it didn't go away even when you found out her accident was because of a defective bolt. I'm guessing that even though you knew, logically, that it wasn't my fault, emotionally it wasn't as easy to switch gears. You can't just make all those feelings stop and go away." Joe shook his head. "Sorry. That didn't make any sense."

Frank stared at him for a long moment. "Actually it made perfect sense." His voice was quiet, but filled with emotion. "I know I hurt you. And I'm so sorry for that. Thank you for understanding; for helping me understand."

Joe looked out over the yard again, searching for those two little boys. The whole situation still hurt. And while it might take a long time to forgive some of the people who were so quick to judge him and even quicker to remain silent when the truth came out, as far as his brother was concerned, they needed to start healing.

"Look, why don't we just say we both could have handled it better and move on from there." He looked back at Frank and gave him a smile. "Whaddya say?"

Frank smiled back. "I say that's a great idea." He turned and reached out, offering Joe a hand.

Joe accepted and allowed himself to be pulled toward the house. "Good. Because all this brotherly bonding is making me hungry. Let's get inside before Chet eats all the good stuff."

Frank laughed out loud as they walked back towards the house. It sounded good.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"It's a Thanksgiving miracle! Yes! The Eagles won!" Chet Morton did a series of dances around the Hardy living room, much to the amusement of everyone gathered together.

"That's the most exercise you've had in years," Biff quipped dryly. "But heck YES the Eagles won. Woot!" Biff jumped off the couch, along with several other friends. "Yay, Sweetie!" he said, lifting his girlfriend into the air.

Vanessa, sitting on Joe's lap as he also finished cheering, whispered in his ear, "I don't think Biff even knows his own girlfriend's name," she teased.

Joe laughed and hugged Vanessa tighter. "Come on, SWEETIE," he emphasized. "Be a good sport. I know that your Giants lost, but try to be a gracious loser." He winked at her.

Vanessa rolled her eyes but gave him a quick kiss. "Let me help your mom in the kitchen. See you soon!" With that, she left him to take in his surroundings.

Joe looked around the room at his friends celebrating, eating, drinking, and laughing. He knew that in a few short short minutes, they'd all be sitting at the table- tables, really- getting ready to have a delicious Thanksgiving dinner. The sweet aromas emanating from the kitchen already made his stomach growl.

He got up and walked purposefully around the house, greeting his friends and family, thinking about how much every one of them meant to him.

His eyes caught the Shaws and Andrea in the background and he had to smile. Mr. Shaw had spoken with him personally before the game had started and had been, in person, as kind as he had heard he had been with his father. Andrea and Mrs. Shaw were talking about dessert, wondering how they were going to help his own mom find room for the sheer magnitude of food they were about to eat.

He saw Callie, finally downstairs in the formal living room where it was only slightly quieter. She was looking at a gift bag she had just opened, and he watched as she covered her mouth in surprise, wiping away tears.

Walking to her, he said, simply, "We talked. It'll take some time, but I think we're gonna be just fine."

Eyes shining with tears, she met his gaze. "Thank you, Joe. You… made my day. Really."

He wrapped an arm around her. "Whatcha have there?" He indicated the gift bag. "Did you buy me a gift or something?" he teased.

Callie chuckled softly. "I told you- no making me laugh." She glanced up sideways at him. "No. Frank just got me a gift." She adjusted her broken wrist, light gleaming from her engagement ring, and opened the bag slightly.

Joe reached inside with his free arm. He pulled out an old piano figurine, faded and clearly in need of some repair. Quizzically, he looked at her. "Frank's getting cheap in his old age," he said. "I don't get it."

Callie smiled even brighter. "Well, I love it," she said softly.

"Talk to Vanessa for me, then, will ya? The holidays get a little expensive."

Callie stood on her tiptoes and gave Joe a quick peck on his cheek. "Happy Thanksgiving, _Bro,_ " she said, winking.

"Weirdo," he responded, and gave her a gentle squeeze as his father's voice boomed into the house. "Dinner's ready!"

Leaving Callie, he headed into the wildly boisterous dining room, and, at last, his spirits began to pick up. He looked at Vanessa, beautiful and vibrant, and knew that this was just one miraculous day in a lifetime to come. Before he could think about it further, he saw his brother help Callie into a seat before she was swarmed with people asking how she was. Though he knew it must be overwhelming for her, he watched affectionately as she was surrounded by people who genuinely cared about her.

As everyone began to find their seats, he noticed his brother suddenly standing beside him. Their talk had been painful, but he knew in his heart that they were on the right path to getting back to normal. And normal had never meant so much.

"So I was thinking," Frank said, slinging his arm around Joe's shoulders, "that after the second game is over, while we're eating dessert, maybe we can have a little fun."

Happy at the physical contact and warmth from Frank's voice, he replied, "I told you, Frank. I can't drink."

Frank sighed and shook his head. "Well," he said with a smile, "I _can_ drink, which makes it easier for you to beat me. It's my handicap."

Joe furrowed his brows, already feeling his competitive juices flowing. "Go on."

"Didn't you win the last round of _Hedbanz?_ " Frank asked innocently.

Joe broke out into a huge smile. "You're on! Yes!"

"Boys!" Laura interrupted. "You're holding up dinner!"

A chorus of boos erupted. Chet exclaimed, "I'm fading away!" which almost caused another riot to break out.

"Come on, everyone!" Fenton exclaimed. "Let's say grace so that we can save Chet's life and make sure he doesn't suffer any longer." As Fenton was about to talk, Joe found himself speaking up.

"Dad?" he inquired. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to do it this year."

At once the room quieted, as though everyone was surprised by the sudden announcement from Joe, who was rarely known for seriousness.

At once, Joe slowly motioned for everyone to hold hands. He, himself, reached for Vanessa's and Frank's hands as he spoke. "I think we all have a lot to be grateful for this year. I'd like us all to take a minute to reflect on how quickly life can change, and that's why we need to appreciate our family and friends and and never take anything for granted. We all have our own journeys, but we are so thankful that our paths cross so often, and it's especially evident at the holiday season. Let's use this year to make our own paths to gratitude… every day. Amen."

"Amen," everyone answered. He felt Frank squeeze his hand.

"Can we eat now?!" Chet shouted, and the room erupted in laughter.

"To Gratitude," Frank turned to him before sitting down next to Callie. "I like that."

Joe just smiled.


End file.
